That Dread Touch
by Alara
Summary: Set in the Son of Asgard miniseries of Thor; all action is in Asgard & Thor, Balder, Sif, Loki are teens. A new teacher has arrived at the warriors' school, one who hates all women-except when he loves them. Enter warrior-maiden Sif, proud and tough. Thanks to some manipulation by Loki, the teacher chooses her as his particular pupil-but is all as it seems? Thor/Sif, somewhat.
1. Chapter 1

Hi, all!

I FINALLY saw the Avengers, which led me to watch the other Marvel-Avengers movies again… Loved Thor, and re-watching the movie led me to re-read some of the old comics. Stumbled across the Thor: Son of Asgard miniseries comic they ran in 2004 (I think) and luuuurved them—Thor et al in the Asgardian version of high school? Yes please!

So don't worry, no spoilers for Avengers here, but thought it might be helpful to see how the heck I got into Avengers territory instead my usual X-Men. Or GI Joe. Geeez, I'm a nerd.

And, of course, because I love the strong female character types (if ya hadn't noticed), partic in the teenage/high school age (so much built in drama!), and in keeping with what is presented in Thor: SoA, this will be Thor/Sif, largely focused on Sif, and Loki (but not Sif/Loki), but with Thor and Balder and Odin and the rest coming to play too.

Anyway this is a plot bunny that's been nibbling at my brain since reading the SoA comics. I was thinking about what sorts of things young women have to be taught and warned about when it comes to schooling and teacher-student relationships. It occurred to me that Sif, as the only girl, might not have received that instruction. And weirdly, the day I was thinking that, came a terrible story in the paper about a TKD instructor who abused his position with two of his female students over several years, proving my point: if someone doesn't talk to young people about how to prevent abuse, they do not necessarily have the tools and skills to spot it on their own. We're naturally trusting when we're young; it's how the young (of either gender) are. Unfortunately we can't afford to be so for ever.

Since probably not everyone has read them there WILL be spoilers for that miniseries (a run of 12 issues) so you all understand what the heck is going on. I'll write those in-story as much as possible but where necessary will add an Author's Note at the top of the chapter. Like in this one. : )

Anyway the bunnies are chomping away, so here we go!

(And don't worry, I'm working on GIJOE and X-Men:E stories too!)

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So! For those of you who have not read the Son of Asgard series, or are unfamiliar with non-movie-Thor… Here are the elements of canon (from SoA) I'm using. Some of them, anyway.

Thor, Balder, and Sif are best friends.

Heimdall is Sif's older brother.

Loki Laufeyson is known to be an adopted foster-brother of Thor Odinson, and paradoxically is openly hateful towards Thor and his friends while at the same time being utterly loving and loyal to Odin and Asgard. He's also the only male in the school of sorcerers, and catches some flak for not being a warrior like the other guys… Yeah, he's got issues.

Thor knows he's deceitful but still loves him, Balder sees good in him, however deeply buried; Sif is distrustful and suspicious of him, with good reason. Loki hates Sif, too, come to think of it, for perceived slights, but Loki like everyone else thinks Balder is OK. Well, he hates Balder for being everything he's not and for being Thor's friend, but isn't openly antagonistic towards him.

Balder is loved by pretty much…everyone, and sees the best in everyone in return. He's not naive, it's just how he is.

Sif was the first maiden ever admitted to the warriors' school. She has a rivalry with the beautiful Amora (enchantress classmate of Loki's) for Thor's affections.

Brunnhilda is the second maiden admitted to the warriors' school, and agrees that Amora is a bitch and Loki is not to be trusted. She's pretty much Sif's only female friend.

Frigga is Thor's mother.

Odin is Thor's father, the Allfather, King, Lord of Asgard. (Hopefully you knew that one already.)

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That Dread Touch

by Alara

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

THE STORY BEGINS…

The kingdom of Asgard, home of the mighty Norse gods, setting for many marvelous tales of heroism, valor, and victory….

This tale is set when Lord Odin, called the Allfather, was king of Asgard; he was aided in this by Frigga, his noble wife.

His pride (and sometimes head-shaking aggravation) were his sons, Thor and Loki; Thor the true son, golden-haired and broad-shouldered, and Loki Laufeyson, an adopted foster-son, dark and sinewy and sly. Thor was aimed for excellence in the warriors' school, while Loki shocked Asgard by showing an aptitude for spellcraft (formerly generally the realm of women alone), and was enrolled in the school of sorcery.

Times were changing for Asgard, however; on the heels of young Loki's assertion that he would be a sorcerer, little Thor's friend Sif declared that she was no meek shrinking maid, but warrior born, and insisted she be permitted to try for a place in the warriors' school when she was of an age to begin.

This caused an even bigger uproar than Loki's preference, for while there were records—few and far between—of men who were exclusively workers of magic, there were no records of an Asgardian woman taking up arms as her life's work. In sudden needed defense of her home, betimes, yes; as a lifelong pursuit of the arts of war, no.

Sif's parents, tutors, the townsfolk, all objected strenuously. However, when it was noted that Odin and Frigga remained silent and thoughtful on the subject, much of the talk was quieted; in that ensuing quiet Sif's brother Heimdall, whose senses were keenest in Asgard, offered up an observation: There was no rule against women entering the warriors' enclave. It was simply that no woman ever had, either by lack of interest or aptitude. "But my sister possesses both interest and aptitude, and should be allowed the same chance at entry as any other her age," he opined.

And while one or two of the instructors at the school did not think much of a female wishing to pursue the warrior's life, neither could they deny her the honest right to try.

And when the time came, try her they did, perhaps a little harder than the boys competing for places n the school alongside her. The young girl set her jaw determinedly and worked harder, until even the most chauvinistic had to agree she had won a place in the school fairly—and may she bring her teachers honor as she grew in her skill!

So it was that Lady Sif entered the warriors' enclave with her great friends, the prince Thor and quiet, kind Balder, and spent many happy years growing in understanding and knowledge. In the meantime, Loki spent much of his time on the fringes of this happy threesome, jealous of their closeness and openness, yet never able to resist playing tricks (oftentimes very nasty ones) on the friends, especially his brother and Sif.

And as they grew, when some inevitably tried to dismiss Sif as a warrior because of her sex, it was always a race to see who would defend her right to be there: the lady herself, or one or the other of her friends.

And the three friends grew from small children to bigger children to adolescents to that strange stage where one is no longer quite adolescent, but not quite a young adult; and it was during this time that Lord Odin became aware of how closely-knit this trio of friends was, and how their strengths shored up each other's weaknesses.

He sent them on a great quest, to collect the components for the first new magic weapon forged in an age. During this quest, the seeds for a very different relationship between Thor and Sif were sown. This was aided inadvertently by Loki, who had been following along trying to create serious trouble so that they might fail in their quest—and even better, fail in their friendship of one another. Loki it was, however, who helped them, when he realized that not just the quest, but the very fate of Asgard (and his beloved foster father Odin) were at stake—for the evil Karnilla, queen of the Norns, plotted Asgard's ruin.

Karnilla was defeated, but first managed to kill Thor in front of his father and friends. This terrible end was reversed, however, through the prescience of Odin. He set the stage for Thor's revival at the touch of Sif's tears of love, should the young lady love his son so. And she did love him so, and wept tears of barely-realized love over Thor's body, and because of Odin's swift preparations, Thor was restored to life (and was bewildered to find all staring at him in amazement).

Karnilla then threatened Loki's life, but was defeated by Balder's endless compassion and kindness. She vanished, vowing her return.

Following this set of adventures, the three friends returned to their school, but of course things were now different. Sif was aware of herself as a young woman for really the first time, and came to understand how lonely a life she might lead, as a lone woman-warrior amongst men.

But when things became truly bleak, Brunnhilda of the Valkyries came into the school—another female warrior, her own age! After a brief bad beginning, borne of mutual jealousy of each other's skills and status, they found themselves perforce becoming friends. None of the women in the sorcery school would have much to do with them, unnatural females that they were, so they looked to each other for feminine companionship. Sif eased Brunnhilda's way into the ranks of the warriors-in-training she'd known her whole life; Brunnhilda opened Sif's eyes to the ways a person could be both woman and warrior, which she'd learned from her sister-Valkyries.

But new friend aside, Sif remained steadfast close friends with Thor and Balder—and rather something more than friends with Thor. This last, of course, everybody realized long before except Thor, Sif, and the girls who were after Thor.

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Chapter 1

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Though it has been a long while since Queen Karnilla was last sighted, Asgard remains on alert against her causing them any more grief. The city is finally completing the last repairs necessary from the last battle, and are not eager to begin anew.

The buzz in the air at the warriors' school was not about the newly-finished courtyard, however, but a rumor that the great warrior Maldunn was to come to teach for a time at their school.

"I hear he's absolutely a master at staff, pike, and double-bladed pike!" Ashur exclaimed, his brown eyes wide.

"Sif had better watch out," another student grinned, nudging her shoulder companionably. "Maldunn thinks women are only good for singing songs and casting spells and tending babies."

"Our Sif will show him differently!" came Thor's voice, and Sif smiled at him. "Just wait and see."

"What, you're not going to let her steal your honor, are you, Thor?" came the obnoxious voice of Bennu, one of those who openly despised having any female counted among the warriors' ranks.

But Thor didn't allow himself to be baited, and shrugged easily. "If he chooses to challenge her merely because she is female, he deserves to be astonished. After all, wasn't it you she defeated in five—no, four—strokes during staff work last term?"

Chuckles rose at this reminder, and Bennu backed down: she had beaten him in a handful of moves, and everyone had witnessed it. Thor smirked, and moved closer to Sif.

"You're getting better at controlling your temper," Sif said to him quietly.

He smiled at her. "Well, you and Balder are right: my tendency to let whatever I think come out of my mouth will get me in trouble sooner rather than later. And what better time to practice than now?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Well! My lord Thor! You are getting wise in your old age—"

Balder dropped into their conversation, draping an arm around each of his friends' necks. "Oh, Sif, he's only grown wise enough to listen to the counsel of his best friends. Let's not give him too much credit…" Bantering, the friends headed off to lunch.

One instructor, overhearing the conversation, said, concerned, "I hadn't considered that we have Sif and Brunnhilda—young women— in our group. I've heard the rumors, but—Maldunn isn't that bad, is he?"

"Well… from what I hear, it's actually that he thinks women are only good for one thing." The other returned pointedly. "So much so, that Lord Odin has forbade him even speaking to any of the ladies at court. Rumor also has it that this was at Maldunn's own request, so… In any case, I don't think there's anything to worry about. He won't even think of Sif as a young woman after he sees how she fights," he stated confidently, "She's a natural. And we know her well, and this—difficulty—only just occurred to us, eh? As for Brunnhilda, she was raised by the Valkyries, and I do believe Maldunn considers them as another species; he'd never think of a Valkyrie girl as a girl! More to the point, they certainly don't stint educating their girls on the hazards we beastly men can pose. "

"And Sif—?"

"Aren't she and Brunnhilda good friends? Surely Brunnhilda discussed these things with her sword-sister."

"Yes, surely. Or Sif's mother did."

"Certainly." There was a pause; a sigh. "One of us is going to have to have this discussion with Sif, aren't we?"

An answering sigh. "Pretty soon; she's getting to the age where she will have to start thinking about idiot boys driven even more stupid with desire, especially as she moves more in Court circles."

"An unforeseen consequence of accepting a maiden into the warriors' ranks, I suppose."

"Well, we'll know better for the next one, and no harm done, after all?"

"None—but we'd better discuss a way to discreetly have this talk with her…"

"Right. How about we…"

The instructors walked off, unknowingly watched—and overheard—by Loki, whose interest was piqued at what he'd heard. How he hated Sif, who rebelled against everything a female should be, and was rewarded for it! Unlike himself, who was merely himself, which happened to be the opposite of what a boy was supposed to embody, and who was reviled for being himself. That hated Sif, with her smooth skin and long hair, who held the attention of his blasted hated-and-loved brother, and the friendship of the oh-so-likable Balder.

He'd been trying to figure a way to bring her idyll crashing down upon her, and this Maldunn might just be the answer…

First, however, he needed to speak with the beautiful Amora, who fancied herself in love with Thor, and so held a hatred for Sif nearly the equal of his own in its strength.

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So… what do you all think so far? This story will explore somewhat similar themes as some of my others do, but with some hopefully unexpected twists & turns, exploration of different aspects, etc.

Reviews and comments welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

That Dread Touch

by Alara

Chapter 2

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Following an aggressive practice at sword work, Sif paced herself to coolness in the courtyard, leaning into the blue shadow against the cool stone, grateful for the moment of quiet. Here, she didn't have to be the tough, boyish warrior-girl; she didn't have to be the young lady her mother was always looking for; she could just be herself. Or at least, try to figure out who exactly that was.

As she sat peaceably looking out at the vista of Asgard falling into blue dimness, she heard her name, but not like someone was calling for her—no. They were talking about her again; they must be up over the wall, and not realize she stood on the other side, hearing their vitriol drip from rosy lips:

"Well, at least we don't have to deal with that ungainly Sif…creature. Could you imagine having that ugly, uncouth crow sitting in class with us?"

Unhappily, Sif eyed the ropes of black braids that looped over her shoulders. Crow, indeed; she couldn't argue the point, as her golden locks, formerly the envy of the other girls, were forever gone. Thanks to Loki.

"Yes—it's a blessing that Asgard's he-maiden is content swinging a sword in the warriors' school." Came the contemptuous response, and the speakers sniggered.

"Ugh, it's true. She's such a brute. I can't imagine what Thor sees in her." Came Amora's piercing voice.

_Sometimes, I'm not sure either_. She admitted to herself, and bit her lip, wondering if her fears were really that easy for all to see.

"Don't worry, he'll outgrow her soon, and be ready for an actual _woman_."

"Not to mention a woman who knows how to _be_ a woman, instead of trying to be a more manly man than Thor. He's very proud, and can only stand a woman besting him at his own skills for so long before he tires of that."

But that's not true! He beats me often, or we come to a draw, and he never despises me when I best him in our bouts!

"I know," came the reply, "He is a true Asgardian man, with a man's pride; it can't last forever. Thor is as good an Asgardian man as Sif makes a poor Asgardian woman."

"What? Didn' t you know? Sif's a good Asgardian man, too!" This jeer was met with gales of laughter, which thankfully faded as the unseen speakers drifted off to other entertainments.

It was a subdued Sif who made her way home to fall disconsolately on her bed.

She looked around the room: armor, weapons, the things to tend them; some books, the tough cloth she used to bind her hair back in braids, study materials; practice clothes and clothes for doing chores in. _They're right,_ she realized, a bit bleakly. _There's nothing here to say this is a woman's room. I'd bet Amora's room has—has—_ She stopped, at a loss to describe what a 'womanly' girl's room would look like. _Well, it probably doesn't have six kinds of bows hung on the walls, that's for sure._

Despite her usually positive outlook, her low spirits lowered even further. _What does Thor see in me, anyhow? I'm not pretty; I'm too tall; I'm strong enough to wrestle him and beat him sometimes, and that's got to be humiliating. I'm not really the domestic type, and even though we're supposedly 'together' he's never asked me on a real date. Because I'm not the kind of girl men ask on dates. I'm the kind of girl men ask for help catching a gryphon, or mending a wall, or bodyguarding their petite, pretty, hearth-goddess wives. _

At this, the tears overflowed despite her attempts to hold them in. _I'm all alone in this, and I'll always be alone._ Annoyed, she brushed the tears from her eyes, huffing out her breath in disgust at herself. _Ugh, I always get like this near my moon-days… I bet Brunnhilda never gets like this…_

That reminder, that this time of the month was usually more weepy than usual, shook her somewhat out of her mood, and the reminder that she was not the only girl-warrior, served to bring her back to something approaching her normal spirits, and she laughed a little at her self-pity.

Even if some of those self-pitying thoughts rang awfully true.

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A FEW DAYS LATER

"So," Loki said casually, falling into stride beside the mountainous warrior walking toward the warriors' school, "You must be this Maldunn everyone's talking about." He tossed a polished black disk from hand to hand.

"And if I am?" the man replied, not even glancing at Loki.

"I know the Allfather has requested you stay away from court while you're here, but… Oh, I'm just wondering if anyone gave you warning about what you'll encounter in the enclave here…"

"Warning?" This time the head moved toward him slightly.

"Of the young Lady Sif."

"A lady? What does a lady have to do with my teaching?"

"Why, there are warrior-maidens in the enclave here, didn't you know?"

That brought the man to a warily interested halt as he frowned at Loki. "Warrior-maidens?"

"Yes, the Lady Sif and one Brunnhilda. Brunnhilda was trained by the Valkyries, so it is unsurprising she is in the school. Sif has been here all her life, was raised a typical sheltered maid. But suddenly one day she declared she wished to be a warrior—and even more surprising, was admitted after a—private—interview with the warriors' training master."

"Hmm…" a rumble of interest as the man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It is obvious you know something of me... So why are you telling me this, magician? –Yes, I know who you are."

"I do not believe the lady Sif has truly earned the right to be in such exalted company, amongst Asgard's future warleaders and rulers. But if you were to offer her some private tutoring, and offer your estimation of her skills, I might be easier with her presence in the school. And of course if she does not… fulfill your expectations, your word as an independent judge would carry much weight as to whether she ought to continue in the school or not."

"This puts me at some risk; what do I gain from… hmm… assessing this Sif's prowess?"

"You say you know who I am; then you know I have a clever tongue, and a certain influence on Lord Odin. It may be that I can persuade him to remedy your need for companionship while visiting. If spending time with Sif isn't enough."

The stranger audibly sucked in a breath, held it, thought for a moment, glanced around, and muttered, "Is she worth the trouble?"

Loki shrugged, but inwardly cackled. "Some might think so; judge for yourself." He turned the stone toward Maldunn, and muttered a phrase. An image of Sif bathing in a waterfall appeared. But what Maldunn didn't know was that the image—and the spell—were crafted specifically for him. Well, for men like him, who were prey to their own baser instincts. He just was giving Maldunn's baser instincts a little… nudge. And an overwhelming focus. He heard Maldunn swallow as Sif's image flickered tantalizingly in and out of view in the waterfall. Ha. Gotcha.

"She might be worth the trouble," Maldunn allowed, just a shade too casually. "She won't be enough; one is never enough." He said meaningfully. "Very well. I accept your bargain, and expect you to hold up your part of it. My thanks for the… offer."

"It's one you won't regret accepting," Loki returned smoothly. He began to go, then turned back. "Oh, one final thing…"

"Yes?"

"She does have some martial skill, of course, or she'd never have been accepted into the school; this balm, however, will help make Sif more easily handled. Just be sure to get it into direct contact with her skin, as much as possible."

"Why give me this?" Maldunn said suspiciously, taking the small vial, unknowingly holding his own undoing—and Sif's.

"Consider it an act of goodwill to shore up our agreement," Loki said, and slid away, the better to watch his plans in motion, the spider watching the flies in his web die, slowly, all unknowing.

He just hoped the lust aspects Amora had added to his potion of weakness had the desired effect—_Or, rather, the effect of desire,_ he smirked at his own pun. She'd assured him it would work even against Maldunn's own strong will. When she learned the potion was to put Sif in a bad situation, the witch had leapt at the chance, with a viciousness that surprised even him. He would see; if Amora came through on this one, he might have to recruit her on a more regular basis in his schemes…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The day Maldunn came to take over the tutelage of the school was a thrilling, grueling one. The warrior put them through aggressive drills, and was wont to correct errant students with a tap or jab as well as a word. Nevertheless, the students' energy remained high: they were learning much, and some pain was worth it; anyway it was always thrilling to have new teachers rather than the same old boring ones.

Plus, the day before, the teachers had hinted that Maldunn might take a small group of deserving students on for extra training, if he thought they were worth it; they all wanted to be part of that select group. Their teachers seemed almost as excited at the prospect as the students.

Those selfsame boring teachers had observed intently throughout the first day, but gone ahead to an early dinner at the end of the day when it was apparent Maldunn had things well in hand.

As they all gathered their things to go, Maldunn spoke. "Sif."

All eyes turned curiously to her as she started in surprise, but approached the large man. "Yes, sir?" Everyone else pretended they weren't listening in.

"You show potential with pike-work, but have obviously never seriously studied that weapon. Yes?"

"Yes; my main studies have been of the bow and of the sword," she admitted. His next words took everyone by surprise—Maldunn's chauvinism had been much talked of before his arrival.

"I would like to provide you with additional training outside the time constraints of the main class; I have discussed this with your mentor and he approves… if you feel you're up to it." He paused.

"Oh, yes, sir!"

"Good. Meet me in the sparring room in fifteen minutes. Come alone." With that he abruptly exited, ignoring the buzz his words caused: "Lucky Sif…" "Poor Sif, I'm ready to drop now…" "Why didn't he ask anyone else?"

"Why wouldn't he have asked me?" And that was Thor, quietly, speaking to her, a puzzled look on his face.

"I don't know; you do well enough with the pike already?" She returned lightly.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, yes, certainly. Verily, I am master of all these weapons in these rooms. Which is why I'm still in school."

"Well, now. Don't get carried away, friend," Balder interjected, grinning. "There are a few weapons (coughMjölnircough) you haven't bested yet. Anyway, he probably doesn't want it to seem like he's currying favor with Odin's son."

Thor's brow cleared. "That's probably it."

"Nevertheless, would you like some moral support?" Balder offered.

"I'll ask if you can come tomorrow, but Maldunn did say 'come alone,'" Sif replied reluctantly.

"Right, he did. And it wouldn't do to begin by ignoring his instructions. We'll see you at the dining hall later, then," Thor returned, obviously wishing he could go with her, anyway.

It made her smile.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


	3. Chapter 3

That Dread Touch

by Alara

Chapter 3

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Loki was lounging indolently outside the warriors' school when they emerged into the afternoon light. "Sif, I hear the new instructor has taken notice of you. What's his interest? It can't possibly be your great beauty," he said sarcastically. "I think he's up to something. You might want to back out."

"Loki," she huffed, ignoring the sting of the insult—she knew she was no great beauty, after all— "He feels I might benefit from some individual training; it's an honor to be asked."

"Hah. An honor! And you believe that."

She frowned. "What else could it be?"

"I hear Maldunn doesn't think much of would-be female warriors; I think he's trying to prove that even with individual tutelage, a girl can never best a true Asgardian warrior."

"And what do you care? You've always delighted in my defeats; why not simply revel in this one?"

"My foster-father Odin has been quietly praising your martial talents," Loki admitted reluctantly. "And my wish to see my father validated outweighs even my wish to see you get the drubbing you deserve. So I'd rather see you skip these special classes altogether rather than prove the Allfather wrong."

"Hah!" she returned, chin lifting. "And that is your problem there, Loki—your father believes I can do this, and I will! And you will not have to worry about Lord Odin's pride in each of the warrior school students—even if that includes me. I will prove your father right, but I will do so by accepting this challenge wholeheartedly."

"Suit yourself," he sneered, "but rest assured, if you embarrass Lord Odin, I will take revenge on his behalf."

"I would expect no better of you," she replied, spun on a heel, and strode off toward the sparring room. _And I will now demand even more of myself._

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Shaking off the encounter with Loki, Sif entered the empty sparring room cautiously. She wasn't quite sure why Maldunn had singled her out for extra tutelage, but certainly she would not insult the visiting training master by scorning to learn all the arts of war he had to teach. Perhaps it was because he didn't think women should be warriors? But then he'd have asked Brunnhilda to stay too, so—

Her musings were interrupted by the arrival of the man himself, who strode toward her, holding a double-bladed pike in one meaty fist.

"Good!" he barked. "You're on time."

"I am eager to learn anything you have to teach me, and am honored you have decided I warrant the time." She said humbly.

"Eager. Yes." Something odd flickered in his eyes. "We shall see if you warrant the time. Now. Have you used a double-bladed pike before?"

"A little."

"Show me." He tossed the weapon at her. She caught it deftly, brought it up into guard position, and began moving through the passes of the drills she'd learned. As she did so, he stalked in a circle around her, looking at her from every angle. As she finished the final pass, he grunted.

"Well enough," he allowed. "But you know only the basic forms. Here. Try this." He took the pike back from her and demonstrated several passes. He handed it back to her, obviously expecting her to have learned them.

Not for nothing was her brother renowned for the keenness of his sight, and Heimdall's sister shared in that gift, at least a little. She moved through the passes reasonably well, and at Maldunn's nod, continued to repeat the pattern.

He began to call out instructions: "Your left hand higher."

"Move your grip around to the front a little."

"Deepen the bend in your knees."

"Deepen the knees! Drop your shoulders."

Sif ignored the sweat beginning to drip from her body, and split her concentration between maintaining the pattern of movements and obeying Maldunn's barked commands.

He walked around her again, still observing. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled at his gaze.

His hand on her shoulder startled her; she jerked slightly before resuming the drill. "Stop, but keep the pike raised," he said, close to her ear. "But here—" he pressed his hands down on her shoulders. She curved them down. "There. That is where your shoulders ought to be. Widen your stance."

She inched her feet apart. "Wider."

She moved them more. His left foot was suddenly lengthwise against the inside edge of hers, pushing it further out, and his hands pressed down on her shoulders. "Keep your back straight; bend your knees."

She wobbled, and struggled to maintain her balance. He was standing so close behind her, she could feel his body heat against her back. She didn't want to fall on him—how embarrassing would that be?

Sif nearly leapt when his hands locked around her typically bare midriff. His right knee lodged into the back of her own, and one large hand dropped to press down on her thigh, matching the bend of her knee to his. The hand returned to her midriff, keeping her balanced.

Sif resisted the urge to curve her back away from him, as he was nearly pressed against her from neck to deeply-bent knees. "Relax," and his breath moved across the sensitive edge of her ear, stirred wisps of her hair. It felt… strange. "Relax," he insisted, and she did her best to do so—he was the weapons master, after all. "There," yes, and there was his breath again, "feel that… Do you feel where your balance is? You need to be low for the double-bladed pike to be effective against taller enemies. And most of your enemies will be taller. Lady Sif."

She wasn't sure why, but her name coming from his lips made her uncomfortable, and the back of her neck increased its bristling feeling.

"Now," he said, "we're going to stay like this until I'm sure you can maintain this balance on your own. Lean on me if you must." She determined not to—she'd show him a female warrior was just as tough as any male!

Even if it was like no training method she'd ever heard of…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Balder and Thor were waiting for Sif near the dining hall when Loki appeared. Inwardly, Thor sighed: his brother always seemed determined to put him in a foul mood.

"So!" Loki began brightly. "I hear that only the Lady Sif was considered worthy for more training by the amazing Maldunn, is it true?"

Balder immediately tried to keep the peace, as was his wont. "Now, Loki, it's true he only asked her to stay behind today, but he may seek out other students for individual lessons, as well. He's only been here one day, after all."

"And Sif is an excellent warrior!" Thor defended her hotly.

"Truuuuue," Loki replied. "Or, at least, I hear it's true. But aren't you afraid she'll become better than you?"

Thor gave him a perplexed look. "Better at what? We three are well-matched in a number of things."

"And our weaknesses are aided by each others' strengths," Balder put in.

Loki mentally rolled his eyes. My damned goody good brother needs a dose of cynicism. He changed tacks. "I mean, aren't you afraid she'll begin to think she's better than you, being singled out of all of the warriors in training in Asgard for special teaching by Maldunn?"

"I—" Thor began, and stopped. "She wouldn't."

"No, she is kind and lovely; Sif wouldn't hold it over us that she had extra training that we did not." Balder stated, but even he sounded less than completely certain. Sif did have a temper at times, and it showed in odd ways.

"Well, if you say so," Loki shrugged, "but I'll remind you, I receive the sharp edge of her tongue more than you; I know better what it sounds like."

"Oh, go away, if you're bound to be unpleasant," Thor said irritably. "You have said enough."

_I certainly hope so,_ Loki smirked, seeing Sif walking towards the pair of warriors as he himself hurried away. _I hope so._

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The rest of the training session had been an uneasy twenty minutes maintaining that bizarre pose not-quite-up-against Maldunn. What was worse, Sif wasn't exactly clear on what she was supposed to have learned through the exercise. Unless she was supposed to practice balancing like that on her own? Well, she could ask Thor and Balder; surely they'd know.

"Hello, Sif!" Balder greeted her, as Thor slung a friendly arm around her neck, pulling her close.

"Come, let's eat; you must be hungry," Thor declared, determined to prove Loki wrong. He would give her the chance to boast of the extra training, and she wouldn't—

"About the training. With Maldunn." Sif began, a little hesitantly.

"What of it?" Thor asked, casting a significant look at Balder. _Do you think Loki was right?_

"He didn't say to, exactly, but there are things he showed me. I'm not sure—should I be practicing them on my own or only when I'm with him?"

"When?" Balder pounced on the word. "You're training with him again?" The look he sent back to Thor said: _Loki may well have been._

"He said he would see me tomorrow—oh! But of course he meant during normal classes. For a moment I thought he meant in another extra training session."

Thor was unable to keep the scorn entirely from his voice. "Do you think you impressed him so mightily that he must single you out again?"

Color washed faintly over her cheeks at his expression. "No—no. Not exactly. It was just the way he said he'd see me tomorrow. That's all."

"Hmm." Balder said, and exchanged looks with Thor. "Well, let's go eat," Balder said, forcibly changing the topic of conversation.

Sif let it change, disappointed she hadn't been able to ask her friends about whether she ought to be practicing those things taught her, but unwilling to rise again the fire she'd seen in Thor's eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The following day, Maldunn did, in fact, ask Sif to stay for extra training again, but this time Thor asked if he might observe.

"Nay, son of Odin. I teach better with no audience." Came the firm reply.

Thor couldn't help the slightly incredulous look as he glanced pointedly around the fairly crowded room of students Maldunn had just finished working with all day.

"When I am giving an apt pupil individual work, I prefer to do so with no onlookers." Maldunn clarified.

"Oh. Sorry."

"It is of no import. Sif, I will see you shortly."

Thor tried to ignore Sif's hand on his arm, but she ducked down and forced him to meet her eyes. "For what it's worth, I would like it if you could observe," she admitted. She didn't seem as eager to go to this training session as yesterday. "I would like someone else to tell me what he thinks. Like yesterday, for a long time, Maldunn had me—"

"Thor!" the call came from across the room. Thor glanced over, and seeing no one looking frantic, shook his head and turned back to Sif. She had such an odd tone to her voice—

"Thor!" The call was more insistent.

He sighed. "I'd better go see what this is about—but we'll talk later, all right?"

"All right," Sif agreed, but he was already striding away.

Resigned, she headed toward the sparring room, hoping today's lesson would make more sense than yesterday's.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

If anything this lesson was even more perplexing.

As he taught her new drills and had her run through them repeatedly, his hands were darting everywhere. Here, his oddly slick fingertips against her collarbone, pressing her back slightly; there, his palm rough against the dip in her lower back, shifting her stance; his fingers laid on her knee, gripping her thigh, correcting its angle.

And all the while, his air was coming in shallow breaths through his slightly-open mouth, and every time he touched her, those breaths came shorter. She began to wonder if he were having some sort of fit.

When she was just about ready to ask him, he broke off, and had her drop into that odd balance pose again, and again insinuated himself against her as he corrected her posture.

His hands were again on her midriff but this time they weren't steadying. They were… stroking. Gentle brushes of his callused fingers from her waist up over her ribs, pausing where her heart beat, then tracing the same path, over and over.

"Sif, you are tense," he said, voice buzzing against her ear. "You need to relax or you'll be too stiff to move later."

She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. Despite her control, a shiver ran through her, and a sudden cramp in her calf made her bite her lip.

Maldunn sighed. "You _are_ too tense. Here, sit down." He ignored her protests that she was fine, and made her sit flat on the ground. He took ointment from his belt pouch, and dripped some on the twitching muscle. His hands closed around her calf, soothing the protesting muscle, his fingertips moving in small circles up her leg.

"I can do that—"

"No. Let me." He continued.

When his hand moved past her knee, though, she raised confused eyes to him. "What—"

"Ssh. It is important to ease the cramp out of the muscle, but also important to be sure other muscles are relaxed so they do not pull on it." He explained. It made sense, sort of, and he was her teacher, for now; she remained silent.

Some uncomfortable minutes later, he moved back down her leg, using the side of his hand in long, smooth strokes. When he reached her ankle, he stopped, and she wasted no time in quickly gaining her feet. "My thanks, instructor Maldunn," she babbled, grabbing her things, "but I'm afraid I am late for—for something. I will see you tomorrow in class." She backed toward the door as she talked, grateful he didn't seem inclined to keep her; she was tired after the workout.

"Stay off that leg for tonight if you can," was his mild response, and thoroughly confused, she left.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She was too late to eat dinner with the others, and found that she wasn't hungry, anyway. That night, she fell asleep early, woke too late to eat breakfast, and did not see her friends until class the next day. When Maldunn beckoned her aside after class again, she couldn't help but say, "Please, Maldunn, can't my friends at least observe—"

He cut her off. "No. Only you." Then he sneered, "Unless you can't handle it, girl."

Her temper flared. "I can handle anything."

"Well, then. Learn to handle not having your friends around. You are improving," he admitted grudgingly, "but others around will only distract you and curtail your progress. So there will be no one around during our sessions until I say so."

Doubt welled up at the 'no one.' "But—"

"I will see you in fifteen minutes." He stated flatly, and walked off.

Brunnhilda eyed her disconsolate face as they stowed the practice weapons, and ventured, "Problems?"

"Maldunn wants me to train with him again."

One elegant eyebrow raised. "And one of the best warriors in Asgard wanting to give you personal instruction is a problem how?"

"Well, some of his training methods are—are odd. And I'm exhausted." She admitted.

Brunnhilda shrugged. "Well, it's obvious the standard training methods are not how one becomes the absolute best at a weapon."

"Except that I can't see how these methods are helping me with the double-bladed pike."

"Well, you are the student. Maybe it will become clearer later?"

"Maybe. That doesn't explain why I'm tired all the time."

"Silly—you're working out twice as much as the rest of us; of course you're tired. But is it worth it?"

"I don't know yet. He says I'm improving, so I guess so…"

Their conversation was interrupted when Thor came bounding over. "Sif! Will you be eating dinner with us?"

"I can't. Maldunn wants me for more training." She tried not to whine; it _was_ an honor, after all. "And I did ask if you could come, but he said no."

An unmistakably jealous expression crossed Thor's face. "More training!" he exclaimed. "Why is he spending all this time with you?"

Brunnhilda expected an indignant self-defense from Sif at that, but was surprised when a profoundly unhappy expression crossed her friend's face. "I—I don't know. I've got to go, I'm late. Maldunn will be upset." She hurried off.

"How do you like that!" Thor exclaimed, watching Sif retreat. They started toward the dining hall. "I've hardly seen her for three days, I ask her a simple question, and she can't even answer it! What's going on with her?"

Brunnhilda frowned in thought. Something Thor had said… "I don't know. Have you really not seen her for three days?"

"Well, only in class." They entered the dining hall, and headed toward the table where Balder had secured seats.

"You haven't even seen her at meals? Is she eating? She says she's tired."

A confused look crossed Thor's face. "Well, of course she… she must be eating. Sif's not one of those women who frets over every bite. She doesn't need to."

"Hmm. Something isn't right." Brunnhilda worried.

"Are you sure you aren't jealous? That not only does Maldunn pick a female to personally train, but he chooses the female who wasn't Valkyrie raised?" Thor half-teased.

They had reached the table by now, close enough that Balder heard Thor's question. "Careful how you throw around that word 'jealous,' friend," he said mildly. Thor shot him an irritated look. "Thor, you are jealous. I can understand why; usually you're the one who gets special training, either because of who your father is, or because you actually deserve it." He ducked the mock-punch.

"Hah! I am not—" Thor stopped at the identical look he was getting from Brunnhilda and Balder alike. He sighed. "I am jealous. It's terrible of me. I shouldn't be. This is a wonderful opportunity for Sif."

"Is it? Something about this whole situation is bothering me," Brunnhilda repeated. "But I can't quite place what it is."

"I've noticed that Sif has seemed quiet these past few days." Balder offered. "But she is in training for fourteen hours a day at least, because of these extra lessons."

"I wish we knew what kind of things she was doing in these lessons; it might be that Maldunn doesn't know how much we do during the normal classes that he doesn't teach, and is causing her to overextend herself." Brunnhilda said.

"Or perhaps he expects a new warrior to have the same stamina an experienced one has?" Balder countered.

"What can we do? Maldunn won't let us participate or even watch." Thor said, disgruntled.

Brunnhilda frowned again. "You've said something like that before, and it's bothering me..."

The other two looked at her curiously. She shrugged. "It will come to me. But I think for now the only thing we can do is to watch Sif when she's not in these lessons. Perhaps Amora is picking on her again. Sif can handle her, but if that whole nasty pack of hens gets involved…"

"They'd better not be," Thor said, looking grim. "Amora and I had a very clear discussion about that. I don't want to see Sif hurt for Amora's pleasure."

"So, that's our plan? Watch Sif?" Balder asked.

"I think it's all we can do."

"But we'll start now," Thor said decisively, and they all nodded.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


	4. Chapter 4

I should probably note that this is a lead-off story for a series of short stories mostly centering on Sif… so if things seem to move too quickly, that would be why. Nevertheless, let me know please if the pacing feels off!

That Dread Touch

by Alara

Chapter 4

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Meanwhile, Sif was undergoing even more strenuous training than the previous days: Maldunn was incorporating tumbling and jumps into the drills, and by the end of the fifth run-through, she'd collected a fair number of bruises. Add to this that her moon-days were due soon, and her guts were cramping painfully, and the result was that this was one of the most physically punishing days Sif had ever experienced—even worse than battling the ice pixies during a blizzard after spending days wading through snow. Then, she'd been numb; now, she felt every spike of gnawing pain following her pounding pulse across her body.

At least Maldunn had behaved as her instructors normally did today, calling out corrections, or _briefly_ moving a limb into the proper position.

Finally, he gave the order: "Sit. Stretch."

Gratefully she set the double-bladed pike down, slid to the ground, and dutifully began to slowly stretch, wincing as the new bruises made themselves felt.

And then she felt Maldunn's breath on her neck. She resisted the urge to sit bolt upright—that would bring her back against him.

"I've told you," he said quietly. "You need to relax. Lie down, I've got something for those bruises."

"No! No, really, I can take care of them my—"

"Lie. Down. Or do I report to your usual instructors that you cannot follow a simple order, even when it's for your own good?"

Chastened, she leaned forward and brought her legs around til she was lying facedown. She did her best not to cringe when he moved his hands, warm with some kind of oil, over the muscles of her back, and then down her legs. Whatever it was, it was soothing to the bruises, she had to admit…

…Perhaps she was misreading him? A wave of tiredness—sleepiness—crashed over her. She blinked—she should stay awake—

"Sif." His voice in her ear startled her; her eyes blinked heavily open. She was sitting up against Maldunn—when had that happened?—and his hands were kneading some of that oil into her aching gut; his fingertips were just below the top edge of her skirt, but the sleepiness got in the way of her instinct to strike his hand away.

"Sif," he said, and lifted his hands. "You need to get up now; it's late. People will be wondering where you are."

"They will?" she blinked, not yet awake. "Oh. Yes. I'll go." She started to get up; he lifted her by the waist when she wobbled. When had she become clumsy?

"You go sleep now, and you'll come back tomorrow."

"Yes… tomorrow." Woodenly she made her way to the door, and nearly tripped over Thor, who waited outside in the—night? When had night fallen?

"Sif," he said, shocked at how ill she looked. "Have you been training all this time?"

"Training? Oh, yes, I suppose I have." She squinted at the stars. "It's late, isn't it? I should go to bed."

"Have you had dinner?"

She stared at him blankly, her normally mobile face almost slack.

"Have you eaten?" More blankness. "Food?" he prompted.

"I'm sure I must have…" her brow crinkled in thought. "Haven't I?"

"I don't think you have," he said, eyeing her with concern: She was pale and listless. Suddenly she wavered, almost staggered. Quickly he slipped an arm around her waist to steady her, and was startled when she leaned right into him, her head lying heavily on his shoulder.

" 'm too tired to eat," she mumbled. "Just want to go t' sleep."

"Sif…" he began to protest, then frowned as his hand slid across her skin. "Sif, what is this?"

"What's what?"

"This… stuff… on your skin." It had a nasty, greasy feel under his fingertips.

"Something Maldunn uses for bruises." She frowned. "Or is it for muscle cramps? Something."

Hmm. Sometimes medicines did odd things to the mind; Balder, for instance, couldn't take rhubarb, or he thought absolutely everything was hilarious. "Did he tell you what it was called? I don't think it's good for you."

"No… it's something… h' rubbed it in, doesn't hurt anymore…"

He took a firmer grip on her. "Let's get you something to eat, and then I think Brunnhilda will help you get this stuff off of you. It's not good for you."

Clouded dark green eyes turned up toward him, blinking trustingly. "It's not?"

"Definitely not."

"All right… whatever you say…" she muttered vaguely, and followed tamely where he towed her—which was the most alarming thing yet.

"And then you'll sleep."

"That's what Maldunn said to do. Sleep."

"Well, he's right, but first you will eat and wash this stuff off of you."

"All right."

He got to the dining hall, where Brunnhilda and Balder were waiting. At the sight of their friend, Balder bit back a curse, and Brunnhilda jerked out of her seat—so Thor wasn't imagining how poorly Sif looked. He got her to sit down at a table, and looked at her in the torchlight, and grimaced: bruises were coming up all over.

"No wonder he gave her some salve." He muttered.

Brunnhilda looked up from where she was trying to get Sif to focus on her. "What's that? What's wrong with her?"

"Maldunn gave her some sort of oil, or salve, or something for her bruises—it's all over her—and I think it's addled her mind."

"Like rhubarb does to me?" Balder asked.

"Yes, only with less hilarious effects."

"It's as though she's sleepwalking," Brunnhilda said, waving a hand in front of Sif's unresponsive face. She ran an experimental finger along Sif's arm, breathed in the oil, and grimaced. "What's in this oil anyway? It smells… I don't know. There's something about it…"

"I don't know what's in it; Sif didn't say."

"Hmm." Brunnhilda took Sif's belt pouch and dug around. "There's nothing in here that could hold salve."

"I guess Maldunn took it away with him." Balder shrugged, and concentrated on Sif. "Sif, you need to eat something, all right? Wait here, I'll get something." He disappeared into the kitchen area and returned with a plate of meat, fruit, and bread and a pitcher of small beer. "Here, eat."

Sif looked at the plate as though she didn't recognize what it was for. The other three exchanged alarmed glances.

"All right, I think perhaps first we girls will visit the bathing hall and eat later, all right?" Brunnhilda said briskly. She looked at the concerned young men. "She's gotten worse even as we sit here; I think the faster we get this stuff off of her, the better."

"Right. We'll take this to Sif's room and meet you there later," Balder said, gathering the pitcher and handing the plate to Thor.

"Right." Brunnhilda took charge of Sif, grimacing at the oily feel of her skin. "Come on, Sif, I think you'll feel much better when you're clean."

"Oh… if you say so." With one last distressed look, Brunnhilda swept the dark-haired girl away, leaving the men to discuss what else could be done.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sure enough, when Brunnhilda dumped Sif into a tub of hot water and began scrubbing the heavy oil off of her skin—and Brunnhilda was disturbed to see that almost every inch of her skin was covered—the other warrior maiden began to wake up.

She frowned at the bubbly water, then at Brunnhilda. "How did I get here?"

"Um… you walked?" Brunnhilda offered. "Well, sort of. I had to help you. Are you feeling more yourself?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I'm—what do you mean, you had to help me?"

"You don't remember? You were in practice with Maldunn for a very long time. Then he gave you some sort of oil to put on your bruises, and whatever is in that oil has a very bad effect on you. It was like you weren't really here."

Sif stared at her. "You're serious."

"Yes." They looked at each other for a moment.

Sif shook her head. "Well, then, thank you. I certainly feel myself right now, but—by the Allfather, I _hurt_!"

"You should; you're all over bruises from neck to knee." Brunnhilda pointed out.

"_What?"_ Sif got out of the tub and examined herself in the mirror: she was, indeed, bruised. Most were faint, while others had livid edges. Some of the marks were clearly from hitting herself with the double-bladed pike as she moved through the drills, but others…

Well. Perhaps she'd fallen during practice? She couldn't remember it, after all. Shrugging, she reached for her clothes, but Brunnhilda swept them out of the way. "Oh, no. These have that oil all over them." _And how the oil got_ _inside your clothes I'll worry about later, my friend._ "I'll clean them for you, but you'd better borrow a robe and throw something on when we get to your room."

"This memory lapse is… odd," Sif stated the obvious as she threw on a robe, then began to pick through her tangled, wet hair, ignoring the blonde's snort. "I wonder if Loki had anything to do with this?"

"What? _Loki?_ Where did that come from? I've wondered… Why do you always suspect the worst of him, anyway?"

"You mean you haven't heard how I got my hair?"

"Your hair?" Brunnhilda asked, puzzled. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything. My hair used to be more richly golden than yours, you know." Sif said.

"No, I didn't..."

"Yes, and it was the envy of every other maiden. And, I suppose of Loki's, who of course has his actual father's dark hair, which points him out as not being Lord Odin's son by blood."

Brunnhilda didn't need to ask the obvious question aloud. _So what happened?_

"Thor and I have been great friends for a long time—"

"No, really."

"Hush. Even before we became involved, we were great friends. When Balder came we just added him into the friendship, like we did you, but before Balder, it was always Thor and I, with Loki tagging along." She sighed. "We were cruel, like children often are, and we were playing at some game we made up that deliberately had only room in it for Thor and me. No place for Loki. And we took care to point it out," she winced in memory.

"We were terrible. But we were children! We thought it was amusing, not realizing how much we were hurting Loki. And we only played this game for about a week, but that is a long time in children's time. But then he showed us how much it hurt him.

"A normal child would have gone into a rage, or complained to his parents, or found new friends; not Loki. No. One afternoon, as part of our game, Thor spent quite some time comparing my hair to any number of golden things, and now and again would throw in '…unlike Loki's hair.' Because we knew he was spying, listening in. We wanted to see what it would take to get him to show himself. But he never did, and we moved on to kinder games.

"But that night, that bastard trickster, who knew a fair amount of magic even at that age, cloaked himself in silence and came into my parents' house, and crept into my room.

"He took a pair of freshly-sharpened shears and sliced my hair off at the scalp, and stole most of it, leaving individual hairs scattered here and there. And it was long—down to my knees—so made quite a hank of hair. I believe at first he planned to keep it as a trophy."

Brunnhilda's jaw dropped. "He _stole_ your _hair_? How terrible!"

"Well, when I woke the next day, I bet they could hear my shriek in Jotunheim. I went running to my mother, who thought at first I had managed to cut it off myself with my 'playing at being a warrior.' But then she understood that someone had done this to me deliberately. She threw me into a hood, and went storming up to Lord Odin, demanding he find the culprit.

"Oh, Brunnhilda, you are new here, but you will learn that Lord Odin is kind, and just—and shrewd. I think he had an idea of who was responsible, but knew he could not easily prove it was Loki. But he made Loki take responsibility anyway. He called him to the throne room and challenged his wizard-son to make a new head of hair for his brother's closest friend.

"Loki agreed, of course, to his father's request—grudgingly, but he agreed. He said he could not do this magic himself, but he knew who could. He took the skein of stolen hair to the dwarves and had them fashion it into a wig, a beautiful golden glimmering wig that would instantly become the actual hair of whomever it was placed on.

"But Loki tried to get away without paying for the wig, so that he could get all the accolades of restoring my hair without admitting guilt in any way, even by paying for the wig's making. To his twisted mind, paying for the work was equal to admitting his fault.

"The dwarves warned him: _If you pay for naught, naught is what you'll get,_ but he ignored them, as he already had the wig in his hand. He fled, laughing at their curses and warning, and came to where I was still weeping in my room.

"He looked so proud as he offered me this golden thing of hair, as though he had made it himself, and I smiled at him, so grateful he had gone to the trouble of getting this wig made for me. I didn't think of why he should be relieved at the restoration of my hair. I was too fixed on the return of my former appearance.

"I put the wig on, and it worked! The hair was my own; pulling on it hurt as always. I went to hug Loki in thanks, but his face changed. The mirror behind me showed a dwarf's face. _'Naught for naught, princeling,'_ he laughed. _'And now the golden hair shall be as naught, as dark as the nothing between the stars.'_ And as he spoke, this black color spread through my hair even as we watched in the mirror—even my eyebrows changed, and my eyes went from Asgardian blue to this murky green I now have.

"This time, I believe my scream was audible in Hel, and I'd have put Loki there, too, were it not for Lord Odin's intervention. He talked me out of murdering his foster son—but not into trusting him, not ever again." She finished grimly.

"No wonder you don't trust Loki, even when he's trying to be nice!" Brunnhilda exclaimed.

Sif sighed, and then laughed. "Balder, of course, when he heard the tale after he arrived, saw the good in the situation."

"What was that?"

"I no longer looked like a delicate, flowery Maiden of Asgard—I was definitely different from the other girls—so when I asked to go to warriors' school, everyone was already off-kilter and less willing to pigeonhole me in the sorcery school."

"Ah. I suppose he was right. He usually is. But—don't you miss your golden hair?"

Another sigh. "Sometimes. It depends. Sometimes it would be useful to be underestimated," she pointed out wryly.

"Well. The color of one's hair isn't the only thing women are judged by," Brunnhilda pointed out cautiously. So far Sif had resisted all Brunnhilda's attempts to make her more feminine. Perhaps here was the key to getting Sif to understand that simply because she was a warrior maiden, it didn't mean she had to sacrifice the maiden part entirely.

"What do you mean?"

"Well. Clothes, for one."

Sif glanced over at the heap of clothes on the ground. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Nothing is wrong with them!" she was quick to assure. "But people do judge a woman on what she's wearing, and wearing that getup, of course people would immediately categorize you as a dangerous warrior-maid. But if you wore something softer, they'd have to really think about it to see you as a threat, or even as a warrior—which could be a benefit."

Sif was nodding slowly. "I can see that—guards would be let down, people would be less wary. But—what sort of clothes?"

Brunnhilda blinked. "What—don't you own anything else?"

A shrug. "More practice gear, mostly." Sif found herself seized by the wrist at this news as Brunnhilda clamped a hand around it and proceeded to drag her out of the room. "Where are we going?"

"To my room, where I'll show you what I mean," Brunnhilda laughed at her, inviting Sif to share the joke. "You'll need something more than a robe to wear, anyway—I forgot that Thor and Balder are waiting for us in your room. A robe would be indecent. So you'll just have to borrow something of mine!"

Sif laughed too. "I guess I have no choice."

"Nope!" came the cheerful response. "You have none at all. But after this," she said, "we are going to your room where you will eat and sleep. You still look very drained," she said worriedly.

"Honestly, I do feel well right now. I'm sure you were all right, and I just had a bad reaction to that muscle-salve of Maldunn's. I'll make sure he doesn't use it on me again."

"All right, then." The other young woman grudgingly agreed, and focused on thinking of what clothes she should force Sif to borrow.

Sure enough, Thor and Balder looked much happier with Sif when they reappeared; she was animated, and talked and moved almost normally, only a few vestiges of her reaction to the oil remaning.

And Brunnhilda couldn't help but give her an _I told you so_ look when Thor nearly missed the chair sitting down, so glued were his eyes to Sif, who had borrowed a soft green belted tunic from her.

And Sif had to admit that maybe, just maybe, the other young woman was right, as before he left, Thor bent and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, saying softly, "That shirt makes your eyes brighter; I think you need to steal it from Brunnhilda." That surprised a laugh out of her. He brushed another kiss against her skin. "Sleep well; I'll come by in the morning to see how you're doing."

"I have such wonderful friends who look out for me; how could I not do well? Thank you, all, for helping me tonight. I don't think I would have made it back to my room without your aid."

"Ah, well, you may not need our help often, but when you do, it is always there," Balder promised gallantly, and with that the trio left Sif to a deep night's sleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The next morning, when the trio met her, Sif still looked a bit worn down, but was immensely improved from the previous night. While she still had no memory of the previous evening, she was almost back to her usual self. She teased Balder about his unending kindness, and asked Thor if he wanted to be bested again in staff work, while exchanging mutual eyerolls with Brunnhilda at the antics of the young men.

They ate breakfast, went off to class, and in the afternoon, when Maldunn came in to take over, it all started to go wrong. Brunnhilda kept an eye on Sif, and was disturbed at what she observed.

He stopped by Sif briefly, and laid a hand on her shoulder as he said something to her, then went on to teach the class. But Sif looked dazed, and her movements were just a bit off-balance. When Maldunn passed by her, he corrected her forms with innocuous, light touches on the wrist or neck or waist, but—

Was she the only student he was _touching_? She squinted; she couldn't quite tell. Was he pointing at Ashur's outstretched leg, or was he in fact adjusting the angle of his ankle?

And every time Maldunn brushed by Sif, her movements became a little more disjointed. Not so much that anyone not watching carefully would notice, but Brunnhilda _was_ watching. And she didn't like what she saw.

She wasn't surprised when Maldunn singled Sif out for extra training—"We'll continue what we began yesterday," he said, in a strange tone that set vague alarms off in Brunnhilda's mind.

Thor beat her to the punch. "I think we definitely need to spy on the training session today. Sif looked exhausted too early again; I don't think it's safe for her to participate in an extra lesson today."

"I believe she is not-thinking again," Balder added. "She was moving through the forms as though she couldn't remember them, by the end."

"And did anyone else notice that she is the only student that Maldunn actually touched today?"

The other two shook their heads. "But what could that be about?" Balder asked.

"I don't know, but it can't be good. Let's go." Thor said, and they headed off toward the sparring room.

The sparring room was in the lower level of a two-level room, the upper level being open in the center so people could observe the contests. For safety's sake, however, the upper level was warded with a clear magical barrier to prevent errant arrows, weapons, or (when the sorcerers' school had contests) spells from striking observers. The barrier also prevented sound from carrying to or from the contestants, so no foul play could be attempted by spectators.

In this case, since it was unlikely Maldunn would look up, it afforded the trio the opportunity to observe and discuss, unheard.

When they arrived, Maldunn was having Sif run through some quite complex forms with the double-bladed pike. Balder was impressed: "She's learned an incredible amount in a short amount of time," he commented. Below them, the girl was gleaming with sweat, but otherwise seemed to be moving effortlessly—a bit glassy-eyed, and mechanical in her movements, but moving well nonetheless. Madlunn seemed pleased.

"Either he's some kind of teacher, or she's some kind of student," Brunnhilda agreed.

"I would bet on Sif," Thor said loyally. "But perhaps it's a bit of both."

As they continued to watch the apparently normal training session, they all began to sheepishly wonder if they'd overreacted, and were jumping at shadows. Perhaps what they had noticed was merely leftover fatigue from Sif's dousing in the oil yesterday? Yes, it was true Maldunn was touching Sif all over as he corrected or taught various moves, but these touches didn't last long; he wasn't lingering.

Then he said something to Sif, and she dropped into a low balance pose. Her head swayed as though she were falling asleep, or tipsy, but otherwise she was still.

Maldunn paced behind her, apparently talking to himself. Once or twice a hand reached out to trace the curve of her back, or to flick across her shoulder, only to have that hand snatched back as though touching Sif burned him. His face reflected alternately anguish, determination, and an animal hunger as they watched. Sif seemed oblivious to it all.

"I don't like this…" Brunnhilda said, alarm beginning to build. This was reminding her terribly of _something…_

"Balder, get my father. Now." Thor said tightly. "He is the only one who can remove this barrier."

Balder was out the door before the sentence was finished, and Thor and Brunnhilda were left to watch. They watched, increasingly nauseated, as Maldunn seemed to give in to the hungry side and fitted himself against Sif, an obscenely blissful expression crossing his face as he kissed her neck and caressed her midriff. Sif stayed still and expressionless.

"Why does she not move—why does she not protest?" Thor whispered, distressed. "Is this what she wants? Someone with more prestige, more battles? Older?"

"Don't be an idiot," Brunnhilda snapped. "Look at her. She's more out of it now than she was last night! Somehow, he must have got more of that oil or salve or whatever-it-was on her, and just like last night, the longer it's on her, the more it affects her."

Thor bit off an oath, followed by a pained sound, as one of Maldunn's hands went north, and the other south, and he pulled an unresisting Sif to the ground. "We must get in there! Wait for Lord Odin, and tell him all; I'm going to see if I can get in another way."

"But, Thor—"

But he was already gone.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


	5. Chapter 5

That Dread Touch

Chapter 5

by Alara

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Balder caused consternation as he burst into the throne room, arriving breathless and in obvious concern. Several tried to stop him, their faces alarmed: had Balder gone mad? He shoved past them, ignoring the pain in his side, and fell to his knee before a rather surprised Allfather. He dripped with sweat as he gasped out, "Lady Sif, bespelled—with Maldunn—sparring room—"

At Sif's name, Odin's expression became intensely concerned; at Maldunn's, he was in motion. Unsure of what was afoot, but always willing to follow their king's lead, the warriors of Asgard quickly gathered arms and headed for the sparring room, Odin in the lead, who paused only long enough to tell Balder, "Lad, you stay here, catch your breath. We'll handle Maldunn."

"Abandon Sif and Thor and Brunnhilda? Not a chance!" was the unsurprising answer. He gulped a breath, and joined the stream of people pounding toward the sparring room.

As they ran, the others threw questions at him, which he answered as best he could. The growing feeling of fury seemed to indicate he'd got the essentials across, at least. He quickened his pace towards his friends.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Thor's shoulder screamed, agonized, bruised so badly that it was bleeding like pulped meat, leaving splotches against the solid wood; nevertheless, the door into the sparring room, solid and real and definitely nonmagical, was showing a slight crack. _Great, I just need to turn the rest of my body into a bloody mess to get through,_ came the wild thought, and he readied himself for another run.

He nearly leapt out of his skin when a hand grabbed his uninjured shoulder: Volstagg, the most massive of the Asgardian warriors, held him back. "You've got a good start on this, my prince. Let me have a try at breaking through!"

"Be my guest," he gasped, and looked around: about ten of Asgard's finest warriors surrounded him—when had they arrived? Balder was there, too, looking ready to drop, but standing upright through will alone, judging by the expression on his face.

Those below broke through the door just as Odin dropped the magical upper barrier. They raced inside, and if Thor wasn't in the lead, it was only because Volstagg's bulk blocked the way.

Maldunn was kneeling over a barely conscious Sif, who didn't appear to notice the intrusion at all.

One of Maldunn's hands was shoved under her top, groping her, while the other was pouring something from a vial onto her, spreading it up her leg. Thor's shout of rage was echoed by the warriors, both those behind him and those jumping down from above: an 'unnatural' female Sif might be, but she was still well-loved, and no Asgardian deserved such mistreatment.

Maldunn didn't seem to notice their entrance, either, even when Odin himself leapt from the top level to land in front of him. Brunnhilda and the other warriors who'd arrived with Odin were seconds in following their king's example.

Odin waved, and several men, angry looks on their faces, advanced cautiously. Their caution proved unnecessary, as they secured Maldunn easily. He only reacted when they forcibly dragged him away from Sif.

Thor was torn between a temptation to tear Maldunn's hands off, and his wish to go to Sif. Just as he was eying the walls for a weapon sufficiently sharp to slice through bone, Sif made a sound: an exhalation, infinitesimal in its quiet, but pain lurked beneath the movement of air. It decided him—and Balder and Brunnhilda, too, who'd been arrested by the small sound, too. Leave Maldunn to Odin; they had more important things to worry about at the moment.

They ignored the sudden howl that rose from the trapped war trainer as the warriors dragged him further away from Sif, clearing space for the trio to tend to the girl.

He was now fighting the hands that held him, lunging toward the semiconscious girl. "No! I must have her! I need her! She is all I desire!"

More warriors laid hold of him, and pinned him against the wall, ignoring his attempts to claw his way through them to get to Sif. His eyes were wild, unreasoning, those of an animal caught in a trap.

Odin stooped over his son, who was patting Sif's face, trying to get her to focus on him. Balder kept a strong grip on Thor's shoulder as he, too, peered worriedly at her.

Brunnhilda was quietly checking Sif for injuries beyond the obvious, and tried to wipe off some of the oil that liberally coated the other girl's skin, grimacing in distaste. She sniffed it, and a suddenly surprised expression crossed her face. She redoubled her efforts to remove the oil.

Odin retrieved the dropped bottle and smelled it, a calculating expression coming over his face.

He walked over to where Maldunn still raved, eyed him for a moment, drew on his powers, then hit him in the face with his mailed fist, to everyone's surprise: Odin's wise counsel to use violence as a last resort was well-known.

The blow, comprised of both physical force and magic, had an instant effect; Maldunn stopped his bestial noises, shook his head, and looked around in confusion. His eyes slid to the hands restraining him, to Odin's furious face, to the still form on the ground.

He blinked in horror, looking at Sif, then back at himself, then at the warriors holding his now-limp and unresisting form. Understanding and despair washed over his face, and he pleaded of Odin, "No, Lord Odin, tell me I didn't…?"

Odin's gaze darted to Brunnhilda, who subtly shook her head.

A sort of compassion moved over Odin's face. "You did not. But it was close. And there are questions that need to be answered, such as: Where did you get this?" he held up the vial of oil, now nearly depleted. "It reeks of magic, and you are no magic-user."

"You won't believe me, I know, but I can only say I truly do not remember." The man's voice was dull, defeated.

Odin's voice sharpened; it was apparent that his outer calm masked a deep anger. "Well, what do you remember?"

"A…" his brow furrowed. "A black rock… and the image of a dark-haired girl… then… weapons practice, and… her skin." He began to weep, a pitiful sight in a once-proud warrior. "Her beautiful skin…" He moaned, and dropped his head, ashamed.

Odin sighed. "Take him away, and lock him up. I will decide what to do with him later." Roughly, the warriors did so. Odin gazed at the ground, thinking for a moment, then rejoined the others around Sif.

"We need to get this—this oily stuff off of her," Thor was saying to the others. "You remember how well she recovered before?"

"Before?" Odin rumbled, aghast that his son would not have _told_ him that an inimical magical potion was being liberally used against his fellow students.

"Just last night, Father; we thought it was just a salve for sore muscles that Sif seemed to have a poor reaction to."

Odin's expression cleared somewhat. "Ah, like Balder and rhubarb."

"Does _everyone_ know about that?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Then, "Well, I agree. The sooner this oil is off of Sif, the better. Brunnhilda, we'll carry her over to the bathing hall, if you'll…?"

"I'll be right there." Brunnhilda promised, looking deeply upset, and as the two young men handily lifted Sif and carefully carried her out, she caught Odin's sleeve. "Lord King…"

"Yes, Brunnhilda?" Odin's troubled face turned toward her.

"There are things I've just realized which I think you need to know."

He nodded, and despite the situation, smiled a little. It was obvious that Brunnhilda was steeling herself to say whatever it was, but she was bravely pressing ahead. "I welcome your insights; young you might be, but you are a good friend to Sif—and to my son. Walk with me."

As they made their way toward the bathing hall, Brunnhilda spoke quickly. "I'm not such a good friend as that… Well, let me tell you all. Yesterday we noticed that Sif had been unusually tired, hadn't been eating, and had been distracted since Maldunn had taken her on for private lessons. Later Thor made an observation about her; and these things bothered me, but I couldn't place why. It came to me just now—Thor said he hadn't seen her for three days—"

Odin's eyebrows rose. "An unusual circumstance."

"Yes, sir. And then he commented that no one was allowed to participate in these training sessions, _or even watch._ I couldn't think why this bothered me; even amongst warriors, there are trade secrets, or lessons it is dangerous for the unready to learn. It is why private tutelage is so sought after. But something about it all was bothering Thor and Balder too, so we resolved to wait for her and watch for her."

"A generous allowance of your time," Odin observed.

"She's our friend; she is worth it. Thor waited outside the sparring room, and it was a _very_ long time before Sif came out—night had fallen." Odin's eyebrows rose at this, but he made no comment.

Brunnhilda continued, "And she didn't seem to know where she was, or where she'd been. She had no appetite, and said how very tired she was, that she wanted to go to sleep. She nearly fell asleep standing up, telling Thor this.

"And it was insane for her to not be hungry—we know that at best, she'd eaten a luncheon perhaps eight hours earlier, and those eight hours were filled.

"Thor had to physically hold her upright, or she'd have fallen over, and she was covered in that oil," she nodded in the direction of the vial Odin still held. "She told Thor it was a muscle salve Maldunn had used on her. We tried to get her to eat, but even in the space of time it took to get to the dining hall and procure some food, her mind went even further away, until she honestly seemed not to know the use of food on a plate.

"When I washed the oil from her, she suddenly came awake, and was astonished to not only be in the bathing hall, but was also surprised to see me, and to be bruised from her practices, and to learn it was night. She had _no memory_ of most of the day."

"A disturbing turn," Odin allowed.

"We thought at that time that it _was_ a muscle salve and she'd simply had a bad reaction to it, as we said before. But just now, it occurred to me that Sif said _Maldunn_ had put the salve on her—and then I remembered that I'd smelled oil like this before," she shook her head in disgust and sorrow, obviously distressed.

"I am a terrible friend, Lord Odin, to not pay attention to my training at need—and a fool, to not anticipate that my closest friend might need that knowledge also. If you threw me out for my negligence, I would not say you nay."

"What? Why do you say this?" Odin was surprised to see the normally confident girl fighting back some strong emotion—anger? Tears?

"The Valkyries teach their students the arts of war, it is true, but they also teach them the various ways in which a man, feeling overpowered by a warrior-woman, may turn to dishonest ways to overpower her instead.

"There is simple seduction, of course (not to be confused with honest love), or bribery—or the use of some several potions to weaken her honed defenses. It is here where I failed Sif, and my teachers.

"That oil smells much like one they had us commit to memory. It is called by the name Maidens' Woe, and it is used to weaken and incapacitate. It will only work on women, and inflames the senses of the man who uses it on her. His pleasure in whatever he wills of her is doubled, while she is weakened, exhausted—and is bereft of all memory or sense while the oil is on her. The longer the oil is left to soak into her skin, the more strenuous the effects, and the more often the oil is used, the more quickly and potently it works.

"And what a fool I was, not to think that _this_ might be why poor Sif, who was closeted with that _beast_ for several hours each day, _this_ is why she seemed ill-rested, and confused, and uneasy. Her instincts, and mine, were shouting that something was wrong—but I had the knowledge to understand all, and prevent it, and I did not listen." Her shoulders slumped.

"Brunnhilda, I thank you for the information, and have some in return for you," Odin said gently, placing a commiserating hand on her shoulder. "You are _not_ at fault here; the Valkyries give you that training for when you are in unfamiliar lands, or enemy territory; how could you possibly anticipate that sort of training would be needed in the warriors' enclave in Asgard's highest city?

"In any case, Maldunn is an ill man—and I knew it before I allowed him entry into the city." He said, surprising her. "He knows it, too; knows his proclivity for preying on women; knows his own willpower can only be trusted _so_ far. Yet he wanted to provide training to Asgard's finest young warriors, to aid in any coming battles against Karnilla or her allies.

"What you do _not_ know is that, at Maldunn's earnest request—for he truly does not wish to harm any—he begged that I set a _geas_ on him, that he be literally unable to see any woman of the Court, from young to old.

"If he cannot see a woman, his illness does not trouble him; and so I placed such a _geas_ on him, and we both thought it safe enough. On the moment the _geas_ was placed, he could no longer perceive my wife Frigga, who bravely put herself to the test. He could neither see her nor hear her, and when she touched his arm, he noticed it only as a breeze, and not a person at all."

"So you see," he said gravely, as they arrived at the bathing hall. "It is _I_ who have failed in Sif's ultimate safeguarding, for it was _I_, in arrogant assurance of my power, who did not take care that perhaps one of the most curiously vulnerable women here should be especially thought of, when bringing Maldunn here." He heaved a great sigh. "I have only to ponder, now, _how_ Maldunn was able to escape my _geas_ in at least Sif's case—and if in hers, who else's?" He looked at her then, and she anticipated his next words.

"None shall hear about this working from me, Lord Odin," she assured him.

"I will tell all in time, when I have answers," he assured her. "Well. Go to Sif with an easy heart, Brunnhilda. Help her to break free of this spell once again, and know that your only part in this was to be a true friend to Sif."

Reassured, Brunnhilda went to do just that, catching up to an anxious Thor and Balder, who were just carefully setting Sif down inside the bathing hall.

"We will wait outside." Thor said firmly, before they left the women in privacy.

"Thor, it might be a long time…" Brunnhilda cautioned him.

"I know. I'll wait anyway."

Brunnhilda bit her lip, not wishing Thor to overhear anything from Sif, should she remember any part of what happened when the oil was washed off again, yet unable to deny his wish to stay close to her.

Balder glanced between the two of them and suggested, "It will take a while, right Brunnhilda? Thor, why don't we go ask one of the women to gather some new clothing for Sif, so it's ready when she needs it?"

At the suggestion of something constructive to do, Thor brightened perceptibly. "A good idea, as always, Balder. But who—?"

"Perhaps your lady mother can aid us? She will be discreet for Sif's sake." Balder put in shrewdly; this would guarantee that he and Thor were far away from the bathing hall for as long as possible, as the Lady Frigga certainly would not do such a personal favor for an absent Sif without learning the reason behind it.

And the Lady Frigga was wise; Balder hoped that between the two of them, they could keep Thor from doing or saying anything really stupid to Sif when she came out of the spell.

Brunnhilda faintly smiled her thanks at him, and disappeared into the hall, while Thor and Balder set off in search of Lady Frigga, both full of worry and hope for their dear friend.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


	6. Chapter 6

That Dread Touch

Chapter 6

by Alara

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Brunnhilda had a moment of déjà vu some time later, when Sif, having been dumped into a second steaming hot bath, suddenly shook her head, groaning. She shook heavy soaked hair out of her face and peered blearily at the blonde, who looked back at her in concern.

She watched Sif's eyes widen and her skin pale as she recognized where she was. "I—oh no—I _swear,_ I never let anyone put any sort of salve on—what—how did I—"

"Sif, Sif." Brunnhilda soothed, patting the other girl's arm. "Try to calm down."

"Try to calm down? I—the last thing I remember is _arriving_ at class this morning—it _was_ this morning, wasn't it?" This last in sudden wide-eyed alarm, looking at the sunset streaming through the high windows.

"Yes, this morning."

"We ate breakfast together, and—and the last thing I remember is arriving at class. It's sundown. No one put any medicine of any sort on me… that I remember. Is something wrong with me? What's wrong with me?"

"Sif, nothing is wrong with you. Yes, you got some of the same stuff on you today that made you ill yesterday, but it's washed off now and Lord Odin has made sure that no more is available, since it has such bad effects." Brunnhilda temporized.

The dark-haired young woman visibly calmed at her words, and Brunnhilda hesitated, wondering how much she should tell Sif. Would telling her all make things any better? But on the other hand, wasn't it Sif's right to know?

"Ugh. I swear, I can still feel the oil on my skin," Sif shivered.

Wordlessly, Brunnhilda handed over a scrub-brush and soap, which Sif accepted gratefully. Brunnhilda brooded over how much to tell her friend, while Sif concentrated on more immediate matters, and the oil made broken patterns on the water's surface. Sif was absorbed by her task, and asked no more questions for the moment; Brunnhilda wished some answer would come to her.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Well, Thor, you can't—I can't—it's not like we can just walk up to your mother and say, 'Oh and by the way Sif has been—' " Balder broke off as he and Thor rounded the corner and nearly ran into the selfsame Lady Frigga.

The queen fixed her penetrating gaze on Balder and asked mildly, "Yes, Balder?" He flushed and looked down, but did not answer. "Balder, does your bravery not extend to telling me what I need to know? There has been some great upset, one that sent all of the warriors running; yet the general alarum was not sounded. You come looking to say something to me; but you think you cannot say it. Does your vaunted courage fail you now?"

"It is not courage I lack, my lady," Balder replied, his face reddening even deeper, "but the understanding of what has happened, and the words to explain it, are what I do not have."

"Hmm." She said neutrally, and fixed that same look on her unusually pale son. "Thor?"

Her heart ached for him, so keenly caught between the fecklessness of childhood and responsibilities of adulthood. Clearly, he lacked the experience to understand or have perspective on whatever it was that had happened. Equally clearly, he felt it was his task to deal with or fix whatever problem it was himself, without outside aid. All this was yet overlaid with confusion—perhaps he, as well as Balder, did not yet understand the event that had caused such general upset.

But—Balder had mentioned Sif, hadn't he? Surely she hadn't broken things off with Thor—

"My son," she said gently, and laid a hand on his arm. She led him to a low table set in a nearby alcove, and nudged him to a seat. "Tell me. Why were you seeking me out?"

"I—we—Sif needs help," he began haltingly, and then, in fits and starts, the story (or what he, Thor, knew of it) came out. Balder added his own comments to the tale, his smooth speech rendered unusually jerky by emotion.

Frigga was distressed to hear of the abuse Sif had taken: She really _liked_ the young woman, and not just because of her love for Thor. She was disturbed as well by how easily Maldunn had bypassed Odin's _geas_—which she would have sworn was impossible. Hadn't she seen the _geas_ work with her own eyes? _There is another hand in this, one that none of us are seeing…_

"So… we were wondering if maybe you could get Sif some clothes to wear and—and also maybe—" Balder babbled, then bit off the request abruptly.

Frigga waited: she did not want to mistake in any way what these young men were asking of her.

"Mother," Thor pleaded, any scant vestige of pride drained away. "Please. Help her. _I don't know how_." And at making that admission aloud, his head dropped forward, his shoulders rounded under the weight of helplessness. In his voice was the trace of a much younger child's plea: Mother, mother, make it better, because this hurt is too big for me to handle alone.

She barely heard him say, "What _can_ I do?"

And of course Frigga responded as a queen would—as a woman would—as a mother would—receiving the same request: "Of course I will help her. And," she said more briskly, rising and launching into action, "We will see what may be done for Sif, and any other affected by this—mess."

She looked at them then, such stalwart and such _young_ warriors, and said more softly. "Help will be given wherever it is needed. You are not alone in this."

Thor was able to muster a quick flash of grateful smile, and the three moved onward to do whatever was necessary to try and make all right.

While they were about these tasks, Frigga took care to tell the young men—and they _were_ young—some certain things about Maldunn which few in Asgard knew. It was good practice, for Frigga knew that soon enough she'd have to explain these selfsame things to the aggrieved Sif, somehow.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Brunnhilda used the time Sif was taking to scour her skin to ponder how, exactly, she should tell her friend about the awful things she'd gone through. It was especially worrisome as she, Brunnhilda, did not know exactly what Maldunn had _done_ during the previous days; she could only tell Sif what she herself had observed earlier that day. Which was, of course, bad enough…

As Sif scrubbed and Brunnhilda worried, Brunnhilda was grateful to hear a knock at the door to the bathing hall. She cracked open the door and closed her eyes in relief: Lady Frigga stood outside, a determined but concerned look on her face, and a pile of clothing in her hands.

"My lady," Brunnhilda said gratefully and sincerely, opening the door enough that the silver-haired woman could slip in, "I am glad you are here."

"What have you told her?" Frigga asked quietly, nodding toward Sif, neck-deep in her tub.

"Very little," Brunnhilda admitted, "I wasn't sure how—or what—to tell her. Does the truth help when I don't know all of it?"

"The truth is _always_ of help." Frigga said firmly. Then she softened this with an allowance that, "However, the truth need not be harshly stated." She moved closer, and Sif finally noticed her presence. Inwardly, Frigga frowned in concern; Sif would normally have noticed her entrance when she first entered the bathing hall. Here, Sif had been oblivious to Frigga when she was only ten feet away. Whatever oil had been on Sif must have shaken her profoundly.

"Lady Frigga!" Sif exclaimed, her tone caught between surprise and trepidation. "Why are you here?"

"I am here at the request of your very good friends, Sif. You've been through some confusing days recently, is this not so?"

Sif nodded. "Even more so since I can't remember most of the days…"

"Well, Brunnhilda and I will try to help you fill in the blank spaces as best we can. Would you like that?"

"Yes! Yes, I would."

"Even if those blank spaces are less than pleasant?"

Sif made a face. "From the way everyone has been acting, and the way I feel, I already have the feeling that whatever happened was, as you say, 'less than pleasant.' But not knowing—it's worse. It leaves it entirely up to my imagination."

"As you say. But first—are you entirely free of that noxious oil that was used on you?"

"Ugh. I think so." Sif shivered. "I keep imagining I can feel it on my skin, in my hair—but I know that if I scrub much more, I'll just be removing already clean skin."

"Very well, then; come out and wrap yourself in a robe, and I will comb out your hair by the fire while we talk."

Moved to speechlessness by the kindly offer, Sif complied, and soon was perched on a low stool in front of the roaring fireplace that served to heat the water to fill the bathing tubs in the hall. Frigga sat behind her, combing tangles out of part of her long dark hair; acting on an instinct that told her Sif wouldn't want anyone looking at her face when they got into their talk, Brunnhilda grabbed an extra comb and sat behind Sif as well, and worked on any errant knots in the hair on the other side from Frigga.

They worked and Sif sat in silence for a few minutes when Frigga stated quietly, "So. The great warrior Maldunn requested you for private lessons in weapons-work. Tell me about them."

Haltingly, Sif did, but could describe them in no better detail than she'd been able to before. "…and then I sort of—woke up—here, in the bathing hall. And I _hurt._"

Frigga sighed. "You must believe me when I tell you that Lord Odin tried his best to balance the good of the individual against the general good of Asgard, and it was only reluctantly, and because certain conditions were met, that he allowed Maldunn to come here at all."

"But he is a great warrior. Why shouldn't he be allowed to come here?"

"Maldunn is a great warrior, but he is very ill man in one outstanding particular," Frigga stated gravely. "Outside of battle, when fighting-madness overwhelms him completely, he can no sooner see a woman than he desires her, basely, and with no other thought in his head. He has, over the years, gained some small measure of self-control, but it is only enough to give him pause so that, should the woman be unwilling, she has at least a _chance_ to escape him. If she manages to get out of sight, and he keeps himself from following, his ardor cools and he is able to control himself. If not…" Frigga sighed sorrowfully, and shook her head. "It is why he makes his home on a remote island; the chance of a woman coming across it by accident is slim.

"Well, as I said, both Lord Odin _and_ Maldunn are keenly aware of this infection that oozes in Maldunn's mind. But after Karnilla's attack on Asgard, Maldunn was eager to pass on some measure of his expertise to those learning the warriors' trade. He was equally fervent that he _not_ place any of the Allfather's subjects to undue risk, however, so he begged a boon: that the Allfather place a _geas_ on him, one which would prevent Maldunn from perceiving the women of Asgard's court in any way.

"We all thought we'd made the situation as safe as possible, and so allowed Maldunn to come here," Frigga admitted, a tinge of bitter self-recrimination flavoring her words.

"How did you determine that he was…safe?" Sif asked reasonably.

"I walked into the room after the _geas_ was laid, and spoke to him. I shouted, I walked right up to him, I even grabbed his arm to try to get his attention. He paid no more mind to me than he took notice of the thin air around him. We thought the _geas_ had been well-laid. Clearly, however, we were wrong, and for that, Sif, we offer you our profoundest apologies. For what it is worth."

Sif nodded her thanks absently and was quiet for a moment, pondering Frigga's bravery in putting her husband's magic to the test. "Lady, I need to know… What did he do to me?"

Brunnhilda took up the thread. "Sif, to be honest, we're… we're not quite certain. We might have to ask Maldunn, though if this illness is like battle-madness, _he_ might not remember. But here's what we _do_ know…" and she recited all the strangeness Sif had been exhibiting since Maldunn's first lesson. She swallowed heavily as she continued, "And today… Today, Thor, Baldur and I were worried that you might actually do yourself an injury in your lesson with Maldunn."

"Injure myself!"

"Yes. By the time the group work with him was done, you were stumbling, acting as though you'd been standing sentry-go for days with no sleep; you were moving with no active thought behind it. If Maldunn aimed a strike at the back of your head, your survival instincts would not have been enough to save you. So we decided to sneak in to the upper part of the sparring ring and keep watch.

"And at first…" a short, barking laugh. "At first we thought we'd imagined it all, that you were merely overtired from days of breaking work from dawn to dusk. And you are _very_ good with the double pike now; we really thought our imagination had got away from us all. And Maldunn didn't behave any differently than in the group sessions. But then…" She closed her eyes for a moment, and felt Frigga's steadying hand on her shoulder, the other on Sif's. "Then he gave you some sort of order—you can't hear from the upper level—"

"I know," Sif said hollowly, focusing on the other girl's words. "What then?" A dread was boiling in her stomach at whatever it was Brunnhilda had to say to her—what she'd been told so far was mildly disturbing, but wouldn't explain her all-over battered feeling, wouldn't explain her urge to retch when she thought of Maldunn touching her.

"Well, it seemed to work like a key word to a spell," Brunnhilda said slowly, thinking it out as she talked. "And you immediately fell into this half-crouched pose. And you didn't move. That's when Thor sent Balder to get Lord Odin. And Maldunn was talking to himself. —No, he was _arguing_ with himself, as he was pacing behind you, barely an arm's length away. And now and again, he'd reach out and just—brush you—and then snatch his hand back as though it hurt. And all the while, his face was going through the most bizarre contortions—from greed to a normal expression to a tortured face that looked like he'd break his teeth from clenching them so hard. The greedy expression won, and he… he stood behind you and pressed himself against you. You didn't move."

She paused; Sif made no movement or response.

"Then he started… kissing you on the neck, and putting his hands on you. You _still_ didn't move..."

A tremor went through Sif's shoulders, seated in front of them.

"…then he pulled you to the ground, and at that point, Thor ran to find another way in." Brunnhilda reminded herself to tell Thor _not_ to reveal that he thought, even for a moment, that Sif might have _wanted_ Maldunn to do those things.

Sif's shoulders twitched visibly. "He pulled me… to the ground? Did he—?"

"No," Brunnhilda said decisively, as Frigga pulled Sif back into the circle of her mothering, sheltering arms. The dark-haired girl bit her lip determinedly, and turned to look at Brunnhilda as she gratefully leaned against Frigga's strength, resting her head against her knee. Frigga stroked a soothing hand across Sif's hair.

"You're sure? What else happened?"

"I'm sure, I was keeping watch the whole time. But…" Brunnhilda's face twisted into unhappiness. "You were practically unconscious. You seemed totally unaware of everything. He did kiss you. And he kept spreading that cursed oil on you every chance he got. The warriors got here as soon as soon, and when they broke down the door below, he… he had his hand on your breast, and the other was rubbing that oil into your legs."

"What happened then? Did he fight?"

"No," Brunnhilda said, confused. "He seemed to be unaware of everything besides you. A group of the warriors tackled him and dragged him away from you while we—Thor, Balder and I—looked after you. It wasn't until they dragged him away that he even _noticed_ them. And one of them was Volstagg."

Even Sif's brows rose at that. Ignoring Volstagg was kind of like not noticing the mountain beside you. When it was about to fall on you. And yelling at you that it was _going_ to do so.

"Lord Odin had come in on the upper level to remove the magical barrier, and the rest of the warriors jumped down to defend you, but it was that quick—as Lord Odin and the rest were leaping down, the others had dragged Maldunn away. Everyone was expecting him to fight; no one was expecting him to be… be…"

"Insane," Lady Frigga supplied flatly, when she fished for a fitting word.

Brunnhilda nodded, "…insane. And certainly no one expected what happened next. Maldunn was raving and clawing to try to get to you, and Lord King Odin went to look at you. He took one look and—" Brunnhilda's voice still reflected astonishment. "He went up to Maldunn, called upon his power as the Alllfather, and hit him in the face."

Frigga started, surprised; even Sif was shaken out of her sorrow to raise her head incredulously.

"He _what_?"

"He hit him in the face!" Brunnhilda repeated. "We were all surprised. Of course, we all wanted to do it, we just didn't expect the Allfather to want to—let alone _actually_ hit him. He's so… so judicious, so careful, usually."

"I think he still was, actually," Frigga put in, quietly pleased that Sif was listening attentively enough to react in her usual manner rather than completely drowning in self-pity and sorrow. Self-pity and sorrow were appropriate to a degree here, yes, but if someone like Sif gave into it fully… she might never get herself out.

"How so, my lady?" Sif asked. "I mean, I would be very flattered if Lord Odin came to my defense personally, but I do not like to think I am the means to his losing control."

"And you are not the cause of any such thing, Sif, child," the silver-haired woman soothed her. "Brunnhilda said that he drew on his power as Allfather before he hit him. I believe he boosted the power of the _geas_ enough, for that moment, for Maldunn, and not his sickness, to get in control. And, if it helps," she added, "I hear that Maldunn's contrition and self-hate when he came to himself were genuine and deep."

Sif was quiet for a little. "I don't know if it helps, but I thank you for telling me." Looking at Brunnhilda, she asked, in a small voice, "How much did Thor see?"

Brunnhilda's eyebrows rose in surprise at the question. "He didn't see anything directly until today—none of us did—and when Maldunn pulled you to the ground, he went berserk trying to find a way in. And then he probably saw Maldunn with his hand under your top and on your leg when they broke in downstairs, but that's all. And I honestly think he forgot most of it as soon as he was sure you were still breathing." At Sif's wordless exclamation of surprise, Brunnhilda added, "When the warriors burst in, you were that still, they weren't certain at first he hadn't killed you outright."

"Oh!"

"Speaking of my son," Frigga put in, "do you feel up to seeing him and Balder? I am certain they are haunting the entry to this hall. Thor was quite frantic to know how you were, Sif."

Long-lashed eyes blinked in surprise. "Of course I feel up to seeing them, they're my oldest friends! I didn't mean to keep them worrying…"

"Be calm, child, I'm sure they do not begrudge you the time to clean and calm yourself," Frigga assured her, then helped Sif climb to her feet. The girl gratefully pulled on the clean clothes Frigga had brought for her, while Brunnhilda bundled the oil-soaked outfit into a bag. She cast about for a moment, wondering where to put it—did Odin need to do something magic-wise with the oil on Sif's clothes?—when Frigga quietly took the bag from her, murmuring that she would see it got to where it needed to go.

Brunnhilda caught Sif just before she exited. "If you need anything…"

A small but real smile appeared on Sif's face. "Thanks for all you've done already. You all are true friends. And I'll keep your offer in mind." With that she slipped out the door.

Worried, Brunnhilda turned to Lady Frigga. "She seems… I don't know, too calm. _Will_ she be all right?"

"I suspect that her inability to remember what happened is working to considerably cushion the effects of what was done to her," the older woman opined. "She may never feel really connected to what you've told her; she may be aware of it only dimly; she may one day remember all. But for now—yes, Brunnhilda, I believe Sif will be all right. Especially if you, her friends, are sure to let your elders know of any significant changes in her behavior. You _will_ let us know?"

"Oh, you can be sure, Lady Frigga," Brunnhilda said fervently. Frigga chuckled dryly.

"Then, I think, we have had quite enough excitement for one day. Have you eaten yet, child?" The blonde shook her head. "Come, then, and eat with me. I do not yet know you as well as I know Balder and Sif; dine with me, for I wish to learn more of our young Valkyrie, especially one who proves such a stalwart friend to those dear to me."

"I would be honored," Brunnhilda accepted, and followed where Frigga led.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Before she exited the bathing hall, Sif took a moment to slowly draw in a breath and hold it a moment, firming up her courage for whatever lay beyond the enclosed space. Would Balder be out there? Would her brother, Heimdall? Lord Odin?

...would Thor? _Of course he will, didn't Lady Frigga say so? But… what if he got tired of waiting? What if he's been sitting out here thinking about what—what Maldunn did to me, and what if he sees some way I should have been able to keep myself safe? What if— All right, Sif. Stop, _she told herself sternly. _Whatever is out there, is out there, and you've never backed down from the unknown, or ignored a challenge. Now is _not_ the time to start jumping at shadows…_

She shook herself, released the breath, and intrepidly stepped out into the sunset-lit courtyard.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She nearly ran into an anxiously pacing Thor outside the door (who Balder had convinced to get his shoulder bandaged). Balder was leaning against one of the walls of the bathing hall. Sif skidded to an awkward stop and cast an unreadable look over both the young men. Abruptly, her gaze dropped to the ground; she bit her lip, turned, and quickly made for the overlook, which was probably her favorite place in the city complex.

When he and Balder arrived just steps behind her, Thor's heart leapt to his throat: she was sitting in her accustomed place, right on the edge, feet dangling over a deadly drop. But unlike her usual, animated self, she slumped forward over her knees; he read dejection in the line of her back. Quietly he sat in his usual place right beside her (the better to grab her should she overbalance) as Balder perched on a nearby stone block. No one said anything for a while.

Then Sif started talking—but not about what had happened to her; instead, she delineated all she'd been told about Maldunn's state of mind, and Odin's _geas,_ and its apparent failure. Bewilderment filled her tone. "Why… why did he pick _me? _I just can't understand it."

As Thor and Balder groped for any answer to that question, she sighed, eyes closed, and the sudden exhalation threw her shoulders slightly forward—just enough to cause her to teeter on the edge. Balder's exclamation was unnecessary; Thor's arm was around her in an instant, leaning her weight back, away from that edge. With one panicked flexing of his arm, he pulled her bodily off of the cliff and on to solid ground where they sat for a moment, shaking.

Thor abruptly realized his arms were still loosely around her, and he jerked away, not wishing to seem aggressive, given the events of the past days.

To his surprise, Sif frowned at him in confusion, and gave him a wary look that quickly turned ashamed; she looked down, away from him.

"Sif?" he asked tentatively. "What's wrong? What did I do?" He exchanged a perplexed look with a concerned Balder.

"Nothing—nothing." She kept her face turned away.

"What—are you _crying? _Sif, please, what did I do? I didn't mean to make you cry." He moved around to duck his face into her line of sight so she could see the sincerity of his expression. _What did I do? I caught her, realized I was holding her—thought she might not want that right now, and—oh. Thor, you are an idiot._

Tentatively he folded his arms around her shoulders, gently. They shook under his touch, convulsively. Almost reluctantly she leaned toward him. "I—I knew—w-when Brunnhilda t-t-old m-me what h-happened that y-you'd-d be d-disg-gusted with m-me," she stuttered, suddenly fighting back the tears she hadn't yet shed. "F-for not b-being st-strong en-nough… _warrior_ enough… to keep him aw-way…"

"What? No!" Thor exclaimed. "You don't really believe that…." He hesitated, unsure as what to do—Sif hadn't stammered when upset since she was small—in fact, the last time she'd done so was when she lost her hair.

Thor looked at Balder for help, but he for once was also at a loss; he was hovering anxiously, wracking his brains for some way to help his dear friend.

Thor gave him a helpless look over her shoulder as he repeated, "Sif, I am not disgusted with you. And I do not believe your strength had anything to do with whether or not Maldunn could—"

"B-But I wasn't strong, and n-now they'll say I'm not fit f-for the warriors' enclave, and—" Sif babbled, the emotions suppressed for hours now coming to a riotous boil, and spilling over into near-hysterical thoughts. "They'll say if I'd b-been a _boy_ this w-wouldn't have happened…"

Balder's expression cleared in sudden inspiration as he stated blandly, "Well. That's true enough."

"Wh-what?" Sif jerked her head up, surprised into indignant outrage, which halted the stuttering. "Balder, how could you—I—" she sputtered to a stop.

"See? In your heart of hearts, Sif, even _you_ do not believe what you fear to be true," their friend said gently, coming closer and laying a companionable hand on the shoulder not leaning against Thor. "Not in the way you meant it. It _is_ true that if you were a boy you'd have been safe; Maldunn's tastes do not trend toward _men_ at all, which is why the _geas_ was so specifically set. No one is going to blame the fact of your gender on you, though!"

Sif sniffed and nodded, calming down. "I suppose they wouldn't," she allowed. Then misery crept over her face again. "But it _is_ still my fault for not escaping him—"

"Sif, did you listen to what the Lady Frigga told you about how Maldunn was allowed to come here? Really listen?"

"Yes…" came the watery response.

"I don't think you did. Maldunn" he tried not to spit the name—he _knew_ the man was ill, deranged—"not only had to fight off his own avowed intentions to harm none here, but he also had to _overcome_ _the Allfather's geas._ At the same time."

"_I know._" Sif said, in aggrieved tones. "I just _told_ you."

"A _geas_," Balder answered, with a significant look at Sif, "which was laid on Maldunn by the Allfather at Maldunn's request. The _geas_ laid the full power of the Allfather on Maldunn, that he could not possibly see, nor hear, nor feel, nor in any other way sense or perceive _any_ woman of the court. If he could not see a woman, he could not desire her, nor be overtaken by his madness.

"It was meant," he added dryly, "to avoid situations like the one we're in right now."

"Balder is right," Thor told her, lifting her face to look into his own. "Do you suppose _anyone_ will think you weak simply because you could not stand against Maldunn? Against someone who was able to break through bonds placed on him by my father? Bonds further strengthened by Maldunn's own will, no less?"

Sif blinked at that logic. "Um… no?"

"You were basically fighting against something _so_ strong—or sly and insidious—that both Lord Odin's power _and_ Maldunn's strength of will were unable to stand against, or guard against it." Balder stated flatly, and Sif sat a little straighter, actually smiling a little at both of them.

"You are better friends than I deserve," she told them, and then grimaced. "And I am an ungrateful beast; I haven't even said 'thank you' to you both, which you most sincerely deserve."

Balder waved off her words as Thor smiled and shook his head a little. "I wish our help hadn't been necessary, but I am glad we all were there to help you, Sif," he said. "Now, shall we all get something to eat? It's been a tiring day."

"That sounds good to me," Sif agreed, and they all climbed to their feet.

As they walked toward the dining hall, Balder wondered aloud, "How _did_ the geas get broken? Was it an accident, or a plan?"

"And if it was a plan, whose?" Thor asked. "And was it aimed at Lord Odin, at Maldunn, or Sif?" Unconsciously his arm tightened around Sif. "It would have to be an awfully devious plan."

"Devious," Balder repeated, then shook his head and laughed shortly. "Ha! If the circumstances were different, I'd think it was something aimed at Sif, which would probably mean Loki was involved."

Thor snorted. "My brother has his failings, but not even _he_ is that depraved. Right, Sif?"

The dark haired girl didn't answer, but looked away.

"…Sif? You can't really believe…?"

She blew out her breath sharply. "If the circumstances _were_ different, as Balder says, then… But even with the circumstances as they are, well…" She eyed Thor. "Loki has always despised me; he hasn't shown much restraint in the past." Unconsciously she toyed with her dark braid. "But even I don't want to believe such—depravity out of him."

"No." Thor said decisively. "What would he gain out of it, anyway? Besides," he pointed out, "surely Father would have known if the magic involved was Loki's."

"He said it was 'strange,' didn't he? I wonder what he meant by that…" Balder mused, and shook his head. "Enough! Enough. I'm sure Sif is tired of this topic of conversation, and if we sleep on it, I am certain our thoughts will be clearer. Let's go and concentrate on nothing more taxing than what we will eat."

Thor laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder. "That sounds like a wonderful plan! Food, and then sleep, and then we will take up our troubles again." He forestalled Sif's protest. "_Your_ troubles are _our_ troubles, Sif; that way their weight is easier for everyone to carry. It's what friends are for."

Sif could have no argument with that, and acquiesced with a smile.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sorry sorry sorry about the delay in this… I am still writing and working on this (and thanks, MarvelFangirl for your continued interest and encouragement!). Over the past half-year, I ran into a few problems, both in my personal life (among other things, WNF is exhausting and just generally _not fun; _I also spent the better part of a month editing a book for an acquaintance) and had problems with this story as well, which combined to make me less than inclined to work on things.  
Story-wise, the issue was that I'd rather written myself into an awkward corner between my main character and the situation I'd put her in jarring with one another. I kept writing things and not liking how they were working out, or disliking how the characters were coming across, or writing something to realize it wasn't the character, really, or I simply couldn't think of the right dialogue. I have been working on other pieces as well though, and I do have the first 5 pages or so of the next (possibly last) chapter of this one pretty well completed. I've also started drafting the follow-up to this one :) , so stay tuned for that.

Next chapter coming soon… certainly it won't be half a year before I update again, sorry sorry again, all!

-Alara


	7. Chapter 7

They'd decided to eat in Sif's room, so that Sif didn't have to endure being asked "Are you all right?" every five seconds by every warrior in Asgard who'd come to her aid. As it was, she still had to deal with Balder and Thor anxiously watching every bite she ate—and she _did_ eat! Really. It was easier, though, if she pretended she didn't notice the concern in the boys' eyes. That way she didn't have to think about the _reason_ for that concern. They spoke of inconsequential things, but mostly ate in a slightly uneasy silence.

It was…odd, she finally decided. Very odd, to know that _something_ _awful_ had been done to you—to know your friends knew about that _something awful_—and to have them know more about it than _you_ did. Balder was concerned; Brunnhilda was angered; Thor was worried. Sif, herself, wasn't sure how she felt about the whole situation, or Maldunn, or anything.

'Odd,' however weak sounding a word, was the only one she could say really fit her feelings at this point.

She shook her head at her musings. Thor reached over to her at the movement. Sif and Thor had moved to Sif's window seat, their backs pressed against the night-cooled panes. Balder had left a while ago after extracting a promise from Sif that if she needed _anything _from him, she wouldn't hesitate to ask. She'd agreed, smiling, and whatever it was Balder saw in her face, he left with a lighter step than he'd had for days.

And now it was just Sif and Thor, sitting. His hand gently brushed her shoulder, his open blue eyes studying her as though looking for something.

As another puzzled look crossed her face, he finally asked quietly, "What is it, Sif?"

They knew each other well enough she didn't bother to dissemble. "I just don't understand… why _me?_ I'm not the only warrior-maiden here, I'm not the prettiest, I'm just… _me_. So why would he pick me for—for whatever it was he was doing?"

Thor shrugged, frowning. "Maybe he didn't. Remember my father's _geas_—maybe you were the only one he _could _see, and… pick. Maybe it started because you _were_ the most apt pupil, and then his—illness—or whatever it is—took over. Maybe it's just because he is insane."

"Maybe it is." That thought was discouraging. It wasn't really an answer.

"In any case," Thor continued, "I don't see why he _wouldn't_ be intrigued by you—you're so unlike other girls."

A snort. "Yes, completely unable to be girlish, with a warlike outlook and freakish coloration thanks to your brother—"

"Bah." Thor waved a hand at her self-deprecation and leaned forward, intent. "Maybe that _is_ why, Sif. You _aren't _like other girls. There haven't ever _been_ others in Asgard like you before. I mean, most maidens are like Amora—"

"—beautiful! And feminine." Sif put in.

"Beautiful? No. Oh, sure, she's got golden curling hair and deep blue eyes, but… she's _pretty_,Sif, and that's all. 'Golden hair and blue eyes and rosy skin' describe an awful lot of people, you know." It was his turn to snort. "It describes _me._ But _you—_if anyone mentions the littlest thing about you—your raven-dark beauty, your prowess in battle, your strength, your shrewdness—no one has any doubt just who it is that person is talking about. And it's because _you_ are worthy of notice. Do you have any idea, Sif," he said earnestly, "how honored I am to be your friend?"

His eyes were intent as he asked this; she could only shake her head, utterly surprised.

"You see," he said, "people know who _I_ am because of who my father is. Thor, Odinson, They know who the warrior-maiden of Asgard is because of her own merits. Why _shouldn't_ Maldunn be intrigued by you?"

"I—I don't—_oh_." Sif said finally, never having seen herself in this light before.

And suddenly, things were a little better. And she felt less like an accidental victim, and more like—well, _if_ she'd been targeted, or focused on, or whatever, by Maldunn—at least there was some reason, however ephemeral, behind it. It gave her a modicum of understanding: that there was a line, and Maldunn, by whatever insanity, was on one side of it, and most men, like her father, like Lord Odin, like Balder, like Thor—would never, ever cross over that line.

For some women, the fact that their attacker had a 'reason' (however insensible a reason) to attack them—for some women, this wouldn't be a comfort at all. But for Sif, who was used to being able to confront problems and solve them, for her, it gave her a feeling that she could learn from this and perhaps in future learn to guard against any such similar attacks.

Not that she was _planning_ on being in any such similar circumstance ever again, but it seemed there had been magic involved here—either Lord Odin's gone awry, or someone else's magic being able to interfere with Lord Odin's. Granted, neither of those was a very comforting thought, but it had been such a long day, and there already had been so much worry in it, that even these new thoughts and worries couldn't be maintained…

Her mind, exhausted, couldn't sustain worry or relief any longer, and before she realized it, she'd slipped into sleep, leaning against Thor's warm broad shoulder.

Thor smiled gently down at her. And he would get up, in just a moment, but it was so _nice_ to have Sif curled up against him, _safe_…

He would get up. Really.

In just another moment…

They slept.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Thor moved his head gingerly, eyes closed, wondering _why_ he'd gone to bed sitting upright.

A sigh near his ear caused his eyes to fly open, startled. _What—? _As his eyes took in the dark head resting against his shoulder, he relaxed as memory returned. His eyes started to close again…

Then they flew open _again_ as he realized he was _in Sif's room,_ in _the morning_, _without_ adult supervision.

Blast, he was going to get in _so _much trouble if anyone found out he'd spent the night in Sif's room. And nevermind that nothing had happened, it was the look of the thing…

He gently tried to extricate himself from the window seat without waking Sif, who needed sleep if anyone did. _Funny, I don't remember grabbing a blanket…_ he mused, as he tucked its warmth around Sif, laying her down gently on the window seat's cusion.

She came blearily awake at the movement. "Thor?" She asked sleepily, confused.

"Shh. I'm just going back to my rooms. You sleep." He assured her, hoping she wouldn't notice the early-dawn light coming in the window at her back.

"A' right…" was the mostly-incoherent response as the girl, thankfully, slipped back into slumber.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He was gingerly making his way back along the path that led to his father's palace, congratulating himself on a narrow escape—and with a wounded shoulder, no less! The bruised pulp he'd turned his shoulder into yesterday—was it only yesterday? It seemed longer.—was protesting any movement at all, and he thought that before heading to his own rooms to catch up on sleep, he might stop by the healers' first. He couldn't see if his shoulder was bleeding through the bandages, but it sure _felt_ like it might be…

He was passing through one of the many crisscrossing intersections of small paths when a deep voice from the shadows nearly frightened him out of his skin.

"Prince Thor. An early morning for you?"

It was Heimdall of the keenest senses in Asgard. Those senses made most people wary of running into him, and indeed since Heimdall was rarely off-duty, most people didn't run into him casually. And Heimdall of those keen senses, who watched over Asgard and sounded alerts when enemies came too close, certainly didn't strike up casual conversations with passers by normally.

And now he was striking up a casual conversation, and eyeing Thor as though he might be one of those enemies in disguise.

"Ah—good morning, Heimdall." Thor said awkwardly, unsure of how to take the penetrating expression on Heimdall's dark face.

"Speak with me a moment." It wasn't a request.

"Certainly." Though Thor was anything _but_ certain he wished to do so. Not because it was always odd to speak with him, since the man was always moving, as he listened and looked everywhere, guarding Asgard even while he was speaking with you. Thor was nervous because he hadn't forgotten Heimdall's _other_ notable attribute. Oh, no.

"There was a great tumult yesterday in the courtyards of Asgard," Heimdall observed, and paused.

"Yes…"

"It was enough commotion to cause even _me_ to glance in its direction for the briefest of moments."

"Was it?"

"Yes." This didn't really seem to need a response, and after a moment, Heimdall continued. "I glanced away from Asgard's borders only long enough to ascertain that no known enemy had entered our lands unseen. Imagine my surprise when I saw the best of our warriors dragging one of their number, Maldunn, away in chains."

"That must have been very surprising," Thor ventured.

"It was. And I do not surprise easily."

"I wouldn't have thought you _would _surprise easily." Thor agreed, and waited to see if Heimdall would bring up that other significant attribute…

"Imagine my further surprise when one of my fellows sought me out this morning to assure me that my sister Sif had taken no lasting harm from Maldunn."

…yep, there it was. And from the sounds of it, Heimdall was moving toward protective-brother mode.

He was still eyeing Thor closely, and the young prince had a sudden inkling that Heimdall _knew_ where he was coming from just now.

"No, she wasn't permanently hurt, physically, from Maldunn. So my lady mother and Brunnhilda tell me." Thor assured him.

Heimdall reached out and placed one heavy hand on Thor's shoulder. "Answer me this, prince of Asgard, who is one of my sister's closest companions: what of harm other than the physical?"

Thor ducked his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think anyone _can_ know what sort of harm Maldunn has done to her. But I'll do what I can to help her," he added earnestly, returning Heimdall's look. "We all will."

Heimdall's stern look softened slightly. "I know you will. But is there anything _I_ can do? You know her, in some ways, the best. What is most troubling her at this time?"

Thor's brow creased as he thought. "I suppose…" he began slowly, thinking over the previous evening's conversation, "I suppose it's that Sif doesn't understand _how_ Maldunn was able to—do what he did. Specifically, how he was able to do it to _her_, and not to anyone else. After all, he had just as much access to Brunnhilda. But he chose Sif. And no one can really say why—not even Maldunn. It even has my _father_ baffled, and he placed a _geas_ on Maldunn so he _couldn't_ harm any ladies."

"I know," Heimdall said. "I witnessed the setting of the _geas_."

"So no one knows _how_ Maldunn managed to break a _geas_ set by my father! And I think somewhere in Sif's mind, and I don't blame her, is that if someone could break a spell of the Allfather… If it was Maldunn himself, or someone breaking the spell _for_ Maldunn… Well, if even the Allfather's magic can't protect people from madnesses like Maldunn's, how _can_ you protect against madnesses? I think that's what is most troubling Sif. That she has no way to plan around, or guard against, anything like this."

"Hmm." Heimdall was silent a moment, frowning. Then, "Sif need not worry about that; I do not believe that the Allfather's _geas_ is broken. It was not a major magical working, but it was a strongly cast spell. I would have noticed its weakening or breaking. Certainly Lord Odin would have. And he was just as surprised as anyone, I understand."

"He was." Thor confirmed.

"It is strange," Heimdall rumbled in his bass voice. "The Allfather's spell, which was to prevent Maldunn from sensing _any_ lady of the court, I would have wagered was one of the most firmly-cast spells I have ever witnessed. That Maldunn discovered a way around it…" he shook his head. "Maldunn is not a magic worker. And he detests his own madness, when he is in his right mind, as much as he relishes it when he is not. It's especially odd considering Maldunn _asked_ for such a spell to be placed…"

"Wait," Thor interrupted. "_What_ did you say the spell did?"

"It was supposed to prevent Maldunn from perceiving, in any way, any of the ladies of the Asgardian court."

"That's it!" Thor exclaimed, excited. "Sif has never been officially presented as a lady to the court, remember?"

"It is so," Heimdall said, surprised. "I had forgotten. She refused to do it when she came of age to be formally added to the court because she'd only been in the warriors' enclave for a year; she worried that it would discredit her work in the school."

"Would that account for why Maldunn could see her?"

"I believe it may," Heimdall said slowly, "but present this insight to the Allfather. He will know for certain."

"I will!" Thor started to run off, then turned back as he remembered something. "Heimdall?"

"Yes?"

"Are… are you angry with me because I didn't stop this from happening to Sif?"

"Angry? No. No. Why should I be? Thor, I was as much surprised as anyone—and _I_ have the keenest senses in Asgard," Heimdall reminded him.

"But… I was _right there. _I should have realized something was wrong, that Sif wasn't just overtired. I mean, any other lady I would have realized something was wrong—I would have defended any other lady far sooner, but I thought—"

Once again, Heimdall placed a bracing hand on his shoulder. "But you thought my sister could take care of herself, and so she can, when she can see the danger clearly. She could not; you could not. _There is none to blame here, _except Maldunn—and whoever pushed him beyond the edge of his madness by providing him with a vial of Maidens' Woe. Don't forget, _someone_ certainly crafted that poisonous substance for him." The guardian added darkly.

"I won't."

"So, go! You did more than anyone else did for Sif, never fear. She will not begrudge you the time it took to fully realize what was happening. Tell the Allfather of what you may have discovered. And if, in the process, you find some way to bring healing to my sister—tell me what I may do. Thor, I am not angry with you. Instead, I thank you for standing by Sif, and for giving her credit where she is due credit, and for not hesitating to ask for help when help is needed. You are growing into a fine young man, and I am _glad_ that our Sif is close to you."

"Th-thanks," Thor stammered, surprised. "Thanks, Heimdall! I'll keep you informed about… everything."

A slow smile and a wave goodbye were Heimdall's answers, as he turned his attention fully back to the safety of Asgard, content that his sister was being well looked after.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sorry about the time between updates, folks. I was hoping to have something up before xmas. However, I was involved in an accident at work, and managed to concuss myself and have some lovely itchy stitches in my face to show for it, as well as somewhat scrambled bruised brains. Needless to say, staring into an eye strain- and headache-inducing computer screen was not high on my list of Things to Do While Recovering From a Concussion.

Anyway! I'm mostly better now, so enjoy, let me know what you think (*cough* reviewplease *coughcough*), and we should have… eh… two chapters, or perhaps one chapter and an epilogue to go. Then on to the follow up story for this, as well as a rather giant XM:E thing I've been working on, and possibly another GIJOE fic.


	8. Chapter 8

Thor jogged into the private residence section of the great hall of Asgard, looking for his father. He could hardly believe that _he _might have discovered the method by which Maldunn had been able to see Sif.

Actually… at this point, he very really nearly _couldn't _believe it. At all. Usually it was Sif or Balder who came up with the brilliant ideas; Thor's nature seemed programmed to be a bit more… feckless. He didn't _mean_ to be so—and he knew he was getting better, learning—but still… he was beginning to doubt his own discovery. It seemed too brilliant, and too obvious for everyone else, especially Lord Odin, to have missed.

But he had to present his idea to Lord Odin anyway, even if he was wrong—because what if his idea was right? He was so focused, he nearly ran over Frigga when he wheeled around a corner to find her coming his way.

"Oh! Mother…" he exclaimed, startled.

"Hello, my son. You are beginning to make meeting me like this a habit, you know. How is dear Sif doing?"

"Sif was doing much better when I—er, when I saw her last." He temporized, not wanting to say _to his mother_ that he'd woken up with Sif. Even though it hadn't been 'like that,' he couldn't quickly think of a way to phrase it that didn't sound… awkward.

His mother smiled serenely and said, "Yes, I know she was fine this morning." At his instant blush, her smile gained a degree of teasing as she added, "Who do you think put a blanket over you both? When you did not come in last night, I came to find you, but you were so tired, I hated to wake you."

He reddened even further, his mouth opening and closing once, with no sound coming out. He tried again. "…Oh."

One elegant eyebrow lifted. "Did you not wonder, my son, why Heimdall did not take offense at your presence in Sif's room all night? He saw me watching over you both, and knew nothing… hmm, _untoward_ had taken place."

She let him squirm in embarrassment for a moment—_his mother_ had seen _him_ and _Sif_ all cuddled up together!—but then she relented. "So, Thor, what brought you here from Sif's side in such haste?"

He hesitated. Having to speak his idea aloud (which sounded more stupid to himself by the moment; of _course_ his father would already have thought of this)… was difficult. But it was his mother, Lady Frigga, known for her understanding. If he couldn't voice his idea to _her,_ how would he ever bring himself to say it to the Allfather? "Mother, I think I've—we've—Heimdall and I—I think we've struck upon _why_, or at least _how_, Maldunn was able to perceive Sif. I was coming to ask Lord Odin about it."

"Have you indeed? That very question has kept the Allfather up this past night, worrying over its answer and repercussions. Come, Thor; we will discuss it with him."

So instead of getting the practice run in presenting his idea that he'd hoped for, Thor found himself propelled in front of a surprised Allfather.

"Thor?" He exclaimed. "I would have thought you'd be with Sif and Balder…"

"No, Lord, I have something to tell… to suggest…" He faltered, fearing to sound like an idiot. Frigga's hand gripped his shoulder encouragingly.

It reminded him that not only was this for Sif, it was for any other lady around who might otherwise fall prey to Maldunn's madness. He _had_ to say it.

He looked at his father as he presented the ridiculously simple loophole he and Heimdall thought they'd discovered in the Allfather's spell casting. The Allfather looked surprised, thoughtful, then galvanized as his son finished speaking.

To Thor's utter astonishment, Odin leapt from the chair he'd been slumped in and embraced his son. "Of course! Of course. I had forgotten that Sif, for all that we call her 'lady' at times, has never technically been presented as one, and (more fool I) did not take care to recall that magic can sometimes be irritatingly literal. It must be the answer."

"But…" Thor paused, then pressed on. "But what if it _isn't?"_

"Then we will at least have eliminated one possibility," His father told him briskly. "But I think you are correct in your thinking. I am _proud_ of you, Thor Odinson, so _proud_ that in the midst of seeing to a dear friend's needs you were still able to think through to a larger problem, _and_ find a solution as well!"

Thor swallowed the sudden tightening of his throat at his father's words. He didn't say things like that to him often.

"Further," Odin continued, "If your idea is right, there is an easy remedy—and Sif ought to have been presented to the court long ago. We will take care of it tonight!" His expression became more serious as he continued, "I will see that Maldunn is well restrained, but… You will need to warn Sif; we do need him there to see that whether the _geas_ is truly intact."

"I understand," Thor answered, though he felt uneasy at the thought of Maldunn _anywhere_ near Sif—even a pathetic and crying Maldunn, as he'd last seen the weapons trainer.

"If it does _not_ work," Odin mused, "We shall have to think of other possibilities. In any case, I still have to look for the other hand in all of this..." Pondering this possibility, his gaze went inward as he dismissed his son.

A sudden panic overtook Thor as he took his leave of Lord Odin, as he realized that he'd just signed Sif up for the sort of formal event she usually _hated,_ and what's more she would be expected to be presented as a _lady. _Which meant court dress. Thor wasn't sure Sif even _owned_ a dress.

And the ladies of the court always seemed to have elaborate hairdos and gowns and all; how would Sif, who'd never done any of it, manage? Her parents lived in a faraway town, so she wouldn't even have her mother to help her. She'd _murder_ him for signing her up for all this…

Just as he was beginning to work himself up into a real panic, his mother stopped him. "If it will make it easier, I will collect Brunnhilda and she and I will ensure that Sif is properly ready to be presented tonight," she suggested.

Thor wrung his mother's hands gratefully. "Would you?"

"It would be my pleasure. And if I'm not mistaken, Brunnhilda has been dying to get Sif dressed up these many months; she will aid us, I'm sure. Just _you_ be ready to escort Sif in, Thor."

"Escort—? Uh… _me?_"

"Yes, you. Of course, you." Frigga frowned at his obtuseness. "You are her closest friend, and her family does not live in this city anymore. Who _else_ would escort Sif in?"

"Uh…"

"Actually," Odin put in from the doorway, amused, "Who else would Sif _allow_ to escort her in?"

Thor had to admit, he had a point, and rapidly left. He reflected that while at times having parents so blasted powerful, influential, and multitalented could be irritating and intimidating and overwhelming for their much less-so son… well, at other times, it was certainly convenient to have brilliant parents.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Unseen in the shadows, Loki silently made his way back to his own rooms. He had to talk to Amora, fast. They had to be sure that no trace of their interference with Odin's _geas_ remained. Otherwise…

"_I still have to look for the other hand in all of this."_

His adoptive father's words resounded in his head like a promise. Or a threat.

He and Amora had to make _absolutely_ sure that nothing could be traced back to them.

He didn't want to think about the alternatives.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Are you _certain_ nothing about that potion can be traced back to you? My father seemed to _recognize_ something in it."

Amora waved off his concerns airily. "Loki, I'm _certain_ there's nothing so unique in that potion that it could be laid at either of our feet. And with your magic mixed in to force Maldunn to focus _only_ on that bitch Sif, that muddies the magical signatures even further."

"Even still…"

She huffed in annoyance. "Look, how often do _you_ hear about magic-workers working together on a private project? Almost never. Besides, who would suspect you or me?"

"Oh, I don't know, perhaps _Sif?"_ Loki returned sarcastically.

"Even she would not believe you would dare to do such a thing, especially not under the Allfather's nose." The blonde insisted, then changed the subject. "What I want to know, is why did it take so long to work? He should have had her by the morning of the second day. And then her ruined body would have _no_ interest for Thor, and he'd finally come back to his senses—and come back to me."

_He was only 'with' you because of your spell casting, idiot,_ Loki thought spitefully. _And you can't cast spells on someone around the clock._ But he'd already heard the screeching denials when he tried to suggest that his foster-brother had more tender feelings for Mjolnir than for the petty, pouting, sorceress.

As for her question as to why the spell, strongly-cast as it was with both of their rancor behind it, had taken so long to work… "_I_ don't know," he replied, irritably. "She seemed resistant to the potion at first. Maybe Maldunn didn't use as much as we anticipated. Maybe _you_ didn't make the Maidens' Woe strong enough." Curiously he added, "Where did you _find_ such a potion recipe, anyway? Certainly it's not in the scrolls on standard potion-making."

At this she barked a derisive laugh. "That doddering old fool Drifa is easily led; she really should not be allowed to teach. I told her I was worried about accidentally creating a potion that could harm my friends, and gradually got her to _tell me the entire thing_ without her realizing it."

He blinked, impressed despite himself. Tricking the teachers at the academies was a feat in itself: they were sharp. He allowed a cool smile to cross his face. "Well, then, if you bring knowledge like this, perhaps you would be interested in working with me again… should I have _need_ of such assistance," he not-quite-asked.

She leaned forward eagerly, no subtlety in her body language at all. "Will it get me Thor?"

An irritated expression lent an edge to his reply. "I don't know; I am not in charge of my brother's feelings or his heart. What I still hope is to get rid of that interfering _Sif_."

An exhale and pursed lips twisted her expression momentarily. "Not that I don't wholeheartedly support that goal, but— Why _do_ you dislike her so?"

"I have my reasons."

"Yes, but… _why? _What are they?"

He was silent a moment, his jaw tightening, and Amora's eyes widened as she comprehended that _that_ was perhaps a question she ought not have pressed.

But he replied. "For all her other faults, and traits, and features that make me _hate _her, Sif _is_ Heimdall's sister—she shares in his keenness of vision sometimes. And at times, she sees me… _too clearly_," he replied shortly, then swept out of the room, not interested in hearing any more of Amora's questions, nor in contemplating the answers that emerged in his mind. _She sees me too clearly… and I don't like what Sif sees._

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Later that morning, Sif woke, stretched, and promptly fell off of the narrow window seat. Blinking, she shoved down the blanket tangled around herself and looked around: No, she was in her own room, but why…

Ah. Memory returned, as she recalled sitting up with Thor long into the night, just talking. His arm had been warm around her, and soothing, and though they'd sat alone together before, last night had felt… different, somehow.

It was odd. She didn't _feel_ different; perhaps it was something with Thor? But he'd been his own kind thoughtful self, too, so…

But… he _had_ been different, telling her she was interesting—and _attractive_?—and that he _liked_ that she wasn't like other girls. She wasn't entirely sure she _believed_ him, but perhaps that accounted for the change.

A knock at the door brought her out of her musings, and she called a welcome. Brunnhilda's bright head poked round the door, her expression turning puzzled when she saw Sif on the floor.

"Good m—Are you all right?" She asked, coming towards her. "Why are you on the ground?"

"Apparently I fell asleep in the window seat and Thor didn't want to wake me."

"Oh. Why were you–wait—_Thor_ didn't want to wake you?" She interrupted herself coyly. "And what was _he_ doing here so late, hmm?"

"Oh, stop," Sif laughed, standing. "We were talking until late, that's all. He was being a good friend."

"Mmhmm."

"_Really._"

"Right. Anyway, are you feeling up to getting breakfast with me? I have something to…er… ask you."

"All right," Sif agreed, a bit puzzled at the blonde's sudden caginess. "Give me a moment to get ready."

"Sure," came the response. "Because of—of everything that happened, there aren't any classes today. You've got time."

"Well, that's nice. A day off." Sif replied, trying not to remember that this cancellation was likely on her account. Quickly she loosened and re-braided her hair, and ducked momentarily behind her dressing screen to change from the clothes she'd slept in.

As they left her room she asked her friend, "So what was it you wanted to ask?"

"Actually, it's more of a strong request," came a voice from behind them: Frigga.

Both turned, Sif automatically bowing as she did so. "My lady Frigga, good morning. Of course I will comply with any request you make of me."

"I am glad to hear you say so," Frigga smiled, as she and Brunnhilda exchanged a conspiratorial glance. "But before I tell our request to you, let us go and eat; your friend Balder is quite anxious to see how you fare."

A smile creased Sif's face. "Dear Balder. Of course. Let's eat, and then you can request away."

Later, Balder made fast tracks away from the dining hall, avoiding the coming eruption behind him. From the color that had risen in Sif's cheeks at Brunnhilda's suggestion, she was feeling _much _better today. _Discretion is the better part of valor, right?_ He assured himself, as he put distance between himself and Sif's indignation.

"A _what?_ I don't even _own_ a dress!"

Much as he'd enjoy seeing how Brunnhilda and Frigga would get Sif to comply, he wasn't going to stick around to get hit with the fallout. He might be Balder the Brave, but that didn't mean he was stupid.

He left Brunnhilda and Frigga to their convincing of Sif; silently he wished them luck. They'd likely need it.

Some time later, the three women congregated in Brunnhilda's rooms. They'd finally found what Brunnhilda had begun to think was impossible: a dress that suited Sif, a dress that wouldn't trip her up, and one that she was willing to wear at all. Now she and Frigga eyed the dark-haired girl as she sat carefully still to avoid mussing the gown.

"Hmm…" Frigga mused. "Silver, I think, for her coloring…"

"Definitely. But as for the hair… up? Braided?"

"Perhaps a braided coronet?" Countered the queen.

The bemused Sif, who'd never been slathered in so much practical femininity in her life before, shook herself awake. She was willing to follow the others' lead on things like her dress and jewelry, but her hair _was_ one thing she took a secret interest it.

"Do you think…" She started hesitantly. Brunnhilda and Frigga turned eyes to her face, interested expressions. Inwardly Brunnhilda leapt for joy: was Sif actually _taking an interest?_ Brunnhilda would take whatever baby steps she could in her self-imposed quest to see Sif a bit less the would-be-boy warrior and more warrior-maid. If her sister Valkyries could pull off both being feminine and a warrior—why not Sif, too?

"Yes, Sif?" Frigga prompted gently, when she hesitated. "Is there a way you think you might like to wear your hair?"

"Could I—perhaps—just wear it down? I never get the chance to just let my hair fall free."

"Hmm…" Frigga's eyes narrowed as she considered the dress, Sif's shape, her overall impression. "It might be a bit plain…"

"Perhaps not, my lady; I have an idea." Brunnhilda said, and began unbraiding one of Sif's long plaits. "What do you think about…"

They combed and pinned, braided and unbraided, jeweled, took the jewels off, added others in their place, till all three were satisfied with the image that looked back from the long mirror.

Well, Frigga was satisfied, Brunnhilda looked like the cat that fell into the cream, and Sif…

Sif was surprised. She looked… like a _lady,_ which she knew was the _point_, but she had never thought her work-toughened body could look softer; her generally utilitarian hairstyle hid the shining richness of her long hair; the lines of the gown she wore drew attention to her lean, elegant figure.

Frigga and Brunnhilda had done something arcane with some sorts of cosmetics which brought out unexpected golden and green glints in her suddenly larger-seeming eyes; and they'd made the planes of her face look striking rather than harsh; and they'd made her mouth look soft instead of stubborn.

But for all this—the person looking back at her was still _her,_ still had that sarcastic wrinkle above her left eyebrow, still looked like the warrior-girl of Asgard. But for once, the 'girl' part was emphasized, and Sif finally started to get an inkling of what Brunnhilda was always going on about…

For the first time that day, the dread of being presented was muted somewhat by the dim excitement of wondering—_what_ would everyone think?

This becoming a lady, officially, might not be such a terrible thing after all.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Odin, Allfather, King of the bright realm of Asgard, was focused. He was intent.

He sighed. He was _frustrated_, and not coming up with answers, a rare situation for a man of his powers.

The tiny vial of potion they'd recovered from Maldunn's keeping stolidly kept its answers. It _was_ Maiden's Woe… but it was something else, too. That 'too,' he felt sure, was key to unlocking this whole unlikely scenario.

_If only I had a coterie of friends to call upon, as does Thor, _he mused. Amazing how Thor, Sif, Balder, and now Brunnhilda all moved together as a team, shoring up one another's weaknesses and encouraging the building of each other's strengths. Fortunate son—and lately, fortunate Sif, to have such stalwart defenders about her who rarely needed defending.

_Wait…_

_Shoring up one another's weaknesses…_

Something about the thought sparked the tiniest bit of inspiration. He drew his power, focused anew, and reached for the magic-thick vial—

"My Lord Odin?" His wife's polite query broke his concentration.

"Eh?" he looked up, surprised to see the red rays of sunset streaming in the windows. When had that happened?

"Will you be joining us at Court and actually welcome Sif tonight, or shall I leave you to your work?" There was the slightest edge to his queen's voice, and while she would understand if he said he had to concentrate on his magicking, she also would be long in letting him forget it if he did so.

"Bah, thank you, my lady; I have been at this onerous task too long this day. I shall come back to it tomorrow with fresher eyes." He rose and stretched, then started for his chambers to array himself in a way to befit the recognition of Sif as a member of the court—and hopefully, render Sif invisible to Maldunn's preying eyes.

His wife followed him. "You will want to have fresh eyes for Court tonight," she suggested, a smile dimpling her mouth.

"Oh?"

She chuckled a little to herself. "Let us say that after tonight, Thor will never understand _how_ he managed to miss seeing Sif as a young woman all this time."

His bass chuckle echoed hers. "She dons the part of a lady well, then?"

"Well…" she looked at him wryly. He'd known Sif and her tomboyish ways as long as she had. "Sif _is_ still Sif. But at that—she'll be a Lady like our Court has never seen."

"Ah. So for once, the court will provide its own entertainment?"

"I don't think they'll have a choice."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_Sif, Sif, Sif_, Loki groused to himself, as he slipped into the Allfather's workroom. _All this fuss over one irritating lousy would-be shieldmaiden. Ugh._ He moved quickly over to the table where the inimical vial sat, and as quickly as he had ever done anything, swapped it out for an identical vial in his pocket; the new vial, of course, lacked his distinct magical signature, but otherwise appeared to be the same magically-perplexing item.

He had conned several of his fellow students into creating it for him, claiming to wish to see how disparate magical signatures interacted, and as he was a star pupil (not to mention extremely persuasive when he wanted to be), they had happily made the attempt.

Now, if the Allfather ever _did_ figure out there were multiple magicians involved with the making of the Maidens' Woe, _nothing_ could be traced back to _him._

He ducked out of the workroom—and nearly ran into a surprised Allfather.

"Loki?" he said. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Oh—Father—I was looking for Mother," he replied smoothly. "I thought she might still be in your workroom. I wanted to know when to arrive at court tonight."

"You are coming?" Odin asked in surprise. "Your feelings about Sif are well-known; it seems… strange… you would want to be there. _Unless_ you were planning on giving objection…?" A clear note of warning rang in the Allfather's voice.

"No, Father, of course not." Loki made a face. "I may not get along with Sif, but I _do_ care about my brother. And about you and Mother. So, for your sakes… For tonight, at least, I can give at least some tolerance toward Sif, so as to not dilute your enjoyment. Besides, it should be interesting to see how Sif looks as a _lady._" He sneered a little, then gained control of himself. "So…"

"Your mother is getting ready, but I believe halfway through the fifth watch should have you there in sufficient time." He started to move on, then turned back, stroking his beard. "I am glad to see this unexpected thoughtfulness in you, Loki; I hope it continues."

_Thoughtfulness, bah_, Loki thought, rebelliously. _And now I can't even object to Sif's entry into the court, since I said I would not._

He stalked toward his rooms, now self-obligated to get ready—but he couldn't come up with a more plausible reason to be in his father's workroom. _I swear, she will get what's coming to her… someday._

_Someday… _

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Brunnhilda had been tasked with seeing that Sif made it to the entry hall of the palace, where she would meet Thor. As they neared the great golden doors, the Valkyrie noted with satisfaction the nervously pacing form of their friend.

Thor was dressed as befit a young prince of Asgard, bright metal-chased festal clothing adding a noble air to his youthful demeanor. That nobility went right out the window, though, when he laid eyes on Sif.

Brunnhilda grinned, shoved Sif a few paces closer to Thor, then vanished into the great hall.

Sif started to move toward Thor, but paused, uncertain, as Thor's eyes widened and his jaw loosened when he turned to look at her.

Sif was wearing a blue gown of a deep shade that made her skin seem to glow and highlighted her athletic figure; the top portion crisscrossed around her neck and the upper part of her shoulders and torso, then cascaded in never-ending folds around her legs to her ankles, where wrapped sandals she couldn't _possibly_ trip on completed the formal attire.

Her hair was like a dark halo falling around her and past her hips, coiling like a living thing, restrained only slightly by the tiniest of seed pearl ropes braided into the tiniest of braids, loosely wrapped around the mass, containing it.

He had never realized that her dark hair had chestnut tones to it, warm and beckoning. Her eyes dropped under his scrutiny and when he didn't say anything her head ducked too, and he saw the flame of embarrassment rush up her shoulders and neck and face (and her shoulders were mostly bare, he realized, but this was somehow a different sort of 'bare' than the skin her working outfits showed. How had he never realized how beautiful shoulders could be?).

"Sif," he said, wonderingly. "Sif, you look… you look…" he groped for words.

A low whistle broke through the night as Balder loped toward them, dressed in his own finery. "Stunning?" he suggested, smiling. "Because you certainly look stunned, Thor."

Startled, Sif raised her eyes to Thor's face for the first time, and felt her eyebrows hike in surprise. Balder was right, Thor looked like someone who had just taken a heavy blow to the temple.

"Yes. Stunning," the prince repeated, blinking, but not taking his gaze off Sif til she stepped toward him. The young man shook himself all over, and belatedly offered Sif his arm. "Sorry. You just—you look _amazing,_ Sif, more than I could ever have imagined."

"I—" she said, and actually _blushed._ "Thanks. Both of you, my thanks."

Balder grinned, "I'll see you in there… soon-to-be-_Lady _Sif." And ran on ahead.

Thor placed his warm hand over the suddenly cold one tucked into the crook of his arm. "Are you ready?"

She eyed him. "No."

He smiled. "No one is. _I_ certainly wasn't!"

She looked at him, surprised enough at the admission she didn't notice him towing her towards the doors. "What—_you_ were nervous? But didn't you grow up attending Court functions?"

"Of course I was nervous; the son of the Allfather, being presented to _everyone?_ Lots of pressure there to measure up." He laughed. "And though I'd _attended_ Court functions—as you have—it was different being presented at one. But I survived. And Sif, they already _know_ you, this is really a formality. It will be short. You already know most people in the court, anyway."

She still looked uncertain, realized how close they were to the doors, and started to slow down.

He played his trump card. "Even _Loki_ managed to be presented without anything disastrous happening."

That did the trick. "_Loki_ managed it?" she snorted, and her head came up proudly. "If _he_ could manage it, surely I can muster up enough bravery, too." She spoke boldly, but her eyes still asked a question of him.

He smiled and answered it. "I, or Balder, or Brunnhilda, will be with you _all night,_" he assured her. "You won't be alone."

A real smile nearly floored him. "My thanks, my prince."

"My pleasure, my Lady Sif. Shall we go in?"

A slight final hesitation, a breath, then a nod; they stepped forward as the great doors swept open and they crossed the threshold.

A cry went up as they entered the crowded hall; a path cleared from the doors to the base of the dais where the Allfather and Queen Frigga sat.

Off to the right, Maldunn lurked, guarded and wrapped in chains and glaring balefully at Sif: obviously, his time of both obsession and remorse had passed, and Thor was grateful for the bulk of the guards flanking the disgraced weapons master. He felt Sif stiffen slightly beside him as they passed, but she made no comment, instead concentrating on keeping her head up and her steps even.

Thor put the man out of his mind, and hoped Sif could, too. As they reached the dais, Thor swept a deep bow as Sif managed a quite decent curtsey (Brunnhilda and Frigga having drilled her in it mercilessly earlier that afternoon.)

"And who is it you bring before me, young Thor?" The Allfather rumbled formally, his voice rolling deep across the crowd.

"I present to you the Lady Sif, warrior and shieldmaiden of Asgard." Thor replied steadily. "Though long a friend to Asgard's finest, never has she been formally acclaimed as befits her status; I ask you and the court of Asgard to accept her among your number, a bargain you will not regret."

"I know of Sif, and would tend to agree," Odin stated, and looked at Sif. "Is it your wish to be presented as a Lady to this court, warrior-maiden Sif?"

Somewhere she found the voice she'd lost and replied. "It is, Lord King Odin."

He smiled at her, then lifted his voice further. "I say I know of her, and approve; but are there any here who would say her 'nay'?"

Sif resisted the urge to look toward Loki, who was pointedly not paying attention to the goings-on.

As for the rest of the crowd… they bore out what Thor had said earlier; she recognized a great many faces, and all of them seemed to be holding their breaths so as to not appear to wish Sif's dismissal.

The silence held for a count of five, and at last, Odin thudded his staff on the ground with a loud _crack_. "It is so," he declared. "Bid welcome, then, to our newest member: the Lady Sif."

There was a strangled, sobbing gasp from Maldunn, who jerked in place, looked around wildly, then dropped like a stone, but this excitement was drowned out in the crowd that surged toward Sif, strong hands and kind faces welcoming her, congratulating her, putting her at ease.

A great many of her peers from the warriors school had reactions similar to Thor's: they got closer to her, smiling, then stuttered and stopped and stared, amazed that their tough school-fellow had been transformed into a bewitching goddess.

"I told you that dress was perfect," Brunnhilda said smugly into Sif's ear, as they waited for Balder and Thor to bring them some food. "Did you see Snorri? He just walked into a pillar."

A blush traveled over Sif's face for the umpteenth time that night. "It's… different," she allowed. "Very strange, to be made much of for just _looking_ different. But it _is _convenient that when you're dressed up, people do things like get your food for you!" she laughed, as she saw Balder and Thor balancing places as they made their way back.

"There _are_ advantages," Brunnhilda confirmed, smiling. "And it's not _so_ terrible, is it?"

"Not once I got to sit down. Now I don't feel like everyone is _looking_ at me."

"They are though," the blonde returned. "Look at Yuri. I think if you smile at him, he might fall over and start frothing at the mouth."

"Oh, hush, he would not." Sif risked a peek at the selfsame Yuri, who was standing about ten feet away. "…Would he?" she wondered.

Brunnhilda suggested mischievously, "Try it and see."

Gamely, Sif sent a smile Yuri's way, and to her astonishment his ears turned red, his eyes crossed, and had Volstagg not absently backed into him, he would have collapsed. As it was, the great bulk of the great warrior shook him awake and he shot Sif one last look and disappeared into the crowd.

Brunnhilda started snickering. "Told you."

"Hush." Sif's face flamed again.

"_La_dies," Balder intoned, grinning, as he placed plates down on the long table. "Your dinner is served. Half of it anyway; here comes Thor with the rest."

"Thanks, Balder!" Sif exclaimed, and Brunnhilda echoed her. "That was very kind of you."

"Only what you both deserve," Balder returned gallantly. "So, Lady Sif. How are you enjoying—"

He broke off as Amora, in a gleaming skintight poison-green dress, eeled her way up to the table. She tendered Sif a very sarcastic curtsey. "Welcome, Sif," she said insincerely. "I would not have known you; you _almost_ appear female tonight."

Brunnhilda bristled, but Sif spoke before she could. She peered at Amora as though searching for something in the mass of teased, blonde curls. "Ah—Amora? Oh! It _is_ you. I'd hardly know you, you seem… _almost_ attractive. Well done! I do hope you didn't have to put _too _many hours of effort into it; to come so close, only to fail, would be a pity."

At the unexpected riposte, Amora jerked straight, her lips tightening into an unpleasant line. "Just remember, this doesn't make you one of us," she hissed in outrage, and flounced off. She paused a moment, to bat her eyes at Thor, who spared her one absent glance, then returned his attention to Sif as he navigated his way back to their table, laden with more food and drink.

He wore a slight frown as he glanced in Amora's direction. "What was _she_ doing here? She is no friend to you, Sif."

"Oh," the girl said lightly, "she merely wanted to bid me welcome and compliment my attire. Though I should have let her know all credit really ought to go to Queen Frigga and my good friend Brunnhilda, here." She added genuinely.

"And I'm telling you, your beauty is always apparent; the queen and I merely polished it up a little to make it more obvious," Brunnhilda returned contentedly, sipping from her flagon. "You'll have trouble hiding it now."

"Hiding what?" Sif asked, puzzled.

Thor frowned, thinking at first she was fishing for compliments. _That_ was definitely unlike Sif… Then he realized she was being sincere.

"Really, Sif!" he burst out. "I just don't believe you sometimes!"

She blinked. "_What?_"

"How can you have no idea of how you draw people in? It's not _just_ for your skills that the other boys are jealous of the friendship we all share with you," he said, gesturing at their group. "It's that there's something about you that makes people _want_ to be near you…"

"…even when you're soundly trouncing them in training," Balder put in, laughing.

"…or striking them with the sharp edge of your tongue," Brunnhilda added wryly.

"Oh, yes, wondrous traits!" Sif laughed, then sobered. "No doubt it was my mocking tongue that drew Maldunn in, yes?"

At that reminder of the ultimate reason for the evening's presentation, they all quieted.

Abruptly, Sif stood. "I have to see if the _geas_ is still intact,"

As one, the others stood with her. Brunnhilda stated firmly, "We will come with you." Forestalling Sif's automatic protest that they should stay and enjoy themselves, she added, "if that madman attacks you again…"

"None of us would forgive ourselves." Thor said.

"Ever," Balder added.

Sif looked around. "Here is where my true good fortune lies: in having such wonderful friends! Come, let us seek out Lord King Odin and see if his magics are still working as they should."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Odin withdrew with the group to a small antechamber. None noticed Loki lurking in the shadows. At a signal from the Allfather, Maldunn, sullen and tired-looking, was dragged in front of the group, still chained.

"Allfather, that dark-haired _witch_ is gone from my sight; she can no longer be a foul source of temptation to me. Cannot I be loosed from these shackles?"

Thor nodded toward Sif, who bravely walked directly in front of Maldunn. He stared through her as though she weren't there. "Well, Lord King?"

"Very—" Odin began to say, but a swift curtsey from Sif (in that dress, there really was no other option) caught his attention. "Yes?"

"Lord King, in recompense of the injuries I have taken, and my friends on my behalf, I beg a boon of you."

"Surely you deserve it," Odin said gravely. Maldunn frowned, and shook his head, as though trying to determine who, or what, Odin was speaking to. "What is your request?"

"That you _increase_ the _geas_ on this Maldunn, that he shall not ever be able to perceive a woman, aside from the merest hint of sound to avoid a collision. And that this not merely apply to the women of your court, but that it apply to any woman, anywhere. While I cannot get too angry at him on _my _behalf—I still cannot remember anything that was done to me—I ask this for the protection of other women.

"And if you will ask Maldunn, I believe he would agree this is a solution he has been looking for, that if he cannot control himself, he will allow himself to _be_ controlled in this one specific aspect of his life."

Odin blinked slowly, and turned his head to Thor. "Indeed, you have a thoughtful and wise friend here, son."

"I know it." Thor replied, gripping Sif's nearest shoulder supportively.

So Odin presented the proposition to Maldunn, whose expression betrayed anger and loneliness, and a strange sort of relief, all mixed together. But he agreed.

And it was done.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And in the shadows, Loki echoed their sigh of relief, when he realized what a close shave he'd had. He considered that perhaps he should keep his tormenting of Sif to himself and not use others as tools in future.

He had come far too close to being found out by Odin or Thor or Balder; and Brunnhilda, he thought, might suspect him of some mischief in this whole affair still. He shuddered to think what _that_ one would do to him if she ever discovered he was behind all of this…

His next plan would have to be subtler still. Definitely…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Later, when they'd returned to the party and Fandral of all people claimed Sif for an energetic dance, Brunnhilda and Balder sat, talking.

"…The problem is, he doesn't see Sif as a _woman_, really. She's still his friend, and closer than a friend, but he doesn't see her as someone to woo."

"You think so? I think Thor feels more than that," Balder objected.

"You'll see. Someone will woo her and sweep her off her feet," Brunnhilda predicted, "If Thor doesn't watch out. Sif doesn't know what to look for to know he likes her, and Thor can't imagine that he might ever need to fight for her affections."

"I suppose we shall see." Balder said. "But I think Thor is smarter than that."

"Hmm…" was all her reply, as she watched Thor watch Sif dance with Fandral. "Well. I suppose we _will_ see. For now, it's enough that the women here are safe, yes?"

Balder smiled at her. "Yes. I am _glad_ you've come to be with us, Brunnhilda."

"As am I." she laughed. "You certainly keep it more interesting around here than at the Valkyrie enclave, that's for sure!"

"True. One always has to wonder what tomorrow will bring. With people like Sif and Thor around, it'll always be _something!"_

She could only laugh in agreement and he joined her, the happy sounds mixing with the tumult of the crowded hall of Asgardians.

Out near the gate to the Rainbow Bridge, Heimdall watched his sister spin and laugh and be made much of for once. He smiled to himself: for now, all was right with Asgard. Brunnhilda and Balder were right—it wouldn't last long—but for now, all was well. And that was enough.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

FIN.

(for now.)

Thanks for hanging in there with me folks! A triple-length posting to finish this sucker off, and a sequel is in the works already.

For those of you wondering about my health—I'm _much_ better now, thanks, but that crack on the head took a loooong time to get over. Basically I had to wait for the bruise on my brain to fade away, then wait for my brain to start repairing itself. Writing was nearly impossible for about 2 months as the story ideas just wouldn't stay in my head long enough to make sense of them. So, sorry!

I shall stay AWAY from things that send me to the ER in future. I promise!

—Alara


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